I have long argued that Tommy James should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But he isn’t, because there’s a prejudice against those who didn’t write and produce all of their own records. Since they weren’t in total control, their art is considered less than entirely serious, or they are considered to have been less than entirely serious about it, or maybe even not quite as good at it as those with complete creative control—all of which is nonsense. If we’re inducting people for longevity alone despite being neither especially innovative nor influential (John Mellencamp, I’m lookin’ at you), there ought to be room for performers who provided maximum amounts of musical pleasure with every record and stretched the boundaries of rock while making them. And since it’s 40 years this week since James and the Shondells did precisely that with “Crimson and Clover,” it’s a good time to make my argument again.
James’ journey began in 1964 with “Hanky Panky,” a monstrous earworm that nevertheless sank without a trace after being released on a regional label based in Michigan. A DJ in Pittsburgh found it in a bin of forgotten records two years later and started playing it at weekend record hops. Crowds loved it. James ended up getting a record deal with Roulette, which distributed the record nationally, and it ended up at Number One in the summer of ‘66. The original Shondells, with whom he’d recorded “Hanky Panky,” couldn’t be reassembled, so he recruited a Pittsburgh band to be the Shondells, and they joined up with songwriter/producers Bo Gentry and Ritchie Cordell for a string of hits including the Top-10s “I Think We’re Alone Now,” “Mirage,” and “Mony Mony.” (And a bunch of other singles that didn’t make the Top 10, including “I Like the Way” and “Gettin’ Together” and “Out of the Blue” and the completely fabulous “Do Something to Me.”)
On the album Crimson and Clover, recorded late in 1968, James and the Shondells took a greater hand in writing and producing, and things got trippy. “Crimson and Clover” is as sticky-sweet as the era’s best bubblegum, but also serves up a generous helping of psychedelic trickeration, including that famous tremolo vocal (achieved by plugging a vocal mike into a guitar amplifier), thereby appealing both to stoners and their younger siblings. “Sugar on Sunday” wasn’t a monster hit until the Clique did a soundalike cover that made the Top 10, “I Am a Tangerine” sounds like an alternate take of “Strawberry Fields Forever,” and “Crystal Blue Persuasion” is one of the most gorgeously blissed-out records anyone ever made. The original album release featured liner notes by outgoing vice president Hubert Humphrey; James and the Shondells had appeared on Humphrey’s behalf during his run for president in 1968.
We make genre distinctions today that weren’t made years ago. (I blame radio for this, with its need to slice the audience into niches.) By the summer of 1969, James and the Shondells were not considered mere Top-4o popsters. They were invited to play Woodstock, fer chrissakes, but James is reported to have said he didn’t want to go 6,000 miles to play in some pig farmer’s field. On that famous weekend, “Crystal Blue Persuasion” was one of the biggest hits in the country. Perhaps we’d remember James differently if he’d been willing to travel.
Coming next: Tommy James in the 70s, Cellophane Symphony and beyond.
“I Am a Tangerine”/Tommy James and the Shondells
“Sugar on Sunday”/Tommy James and the Shondells
(buy ‘em on the twin-pak release of Crimson and Clover and Cellophane Symphony here)
Filed under: Tracks
