One of my favorite posts in the history of this blog appeared three years ago this week, about the darkness audible on Top 40 radio in the fall of 1969 via the WLS chart from the week of November 10. There are other ways to look at the same week, of course—how dark could it have been if Sesame Street premiered on TV? Here’s how it sounded at WKNR in Detroit, the fabled Keener 13, on the survey dated November 13, 1969.

8. “Down on the Corner”-”Fortunate Son”/Creedence Clearwater Revival (up from 13). Has there ever been a better two-sided hit single? If we had a contest to figure it out, this one would definitely make the semi-finals, at least—with several other two-sided CCR singles.

16. “Get It From the Bottom”/Steelers (down from 7). The Steelers were a Chicago group that started out recording on the local Crash label, owned by DJ Al Benson. Even after Crash crashed in 1967, the Steelers carried on. “Get It From the Bottom” was good enough to get national distribution from Columbia, although it was popular mostly in the Midwest. The Steelers are still performing around Chicago, apparently.

25. “Midnight Cowboy”/Ferrante and Teicher (up from 28). WKNR lists two versions of this movie theme, by John Barry, who wrote it, and Ferrante and Teicher, who had a Top-10 national hit with it. There’s a hallucinatory quality to the F&T version, although most of the atmosphere comes not from the famous twin pianos but from Vincent Bell’s guitar and those ghostly choral voices. The vibe is nicely captured in this YouTube video, which features scenes from the Dustin Hoffman/Jon Voight film.

26. “The Music Box”/Ruth Copeland (up from 29). One of the first releases on Holland/Dozier/Holland’s Invictus label was by Ruth Copeland, a white girl from England whose debut album was recorded at the same time and features many of the same musicians as the debut album by Parliament. It’s weird stuff; the band is great, but Copeland’s performance is frequently over-the-top strange—like the sobbing that takes up the last 45 seconds of “The Music Box,” which is unobjectionable up to that point despite the presence of a children’s chorus.

Keener LP #3: Rock and Roll Music/The Frost. Another Detroit-area legend. The group’s leader was Dick Wagner, who would go on to play with Lou Reed and Alice Cooper, among others. (He started the band after the demise of the Bossmen, another Detroit band that had included Mark Farner, who later founded Grand Funk Railroad.) Rock and Roll Music was the group’s second album, recorded live at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, which hosted shows by Cream, the Who, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, and even John Coltrane in the 60s along with the full roster of Michigan acts, including the MC5, the Stooges (both of whom were house bands for a while) and the Rationals.

When it comes to Detroit music in the 60s, Motown was just the beginning, and not enough people know that.

“The Music Box”/Ruth Copeland (buy it here)

At this blog, I pride myself on offering not merely entertainment, but anything else you, the esteemed blog reader, might need. I have limits, however. Here’s a short list of six things I’ll do, and four things I won’t.

“I’ll Make Love to You Anytime”/Eric Clapton. From Backless, an album that many critics consider lifeless to the point of needing electroshock, but one I once dug quite a bit. (I’ve listened to a lot more Clapton in recent years, and I like Backless a lot less now as a result.) On this track, Clapton does not merely channel J.J. Cale, he does an impression of him.

“I’ll Remember April”/Miles Davis. The records Miles recorded for Prestige in the early 50s are about as good as he ever got. This is from Blue Haze, released in 1954 from sessions in 1953 and 1954. This track and several others feature Horace Silver on piano; Charles Mingus provides piano on one track.

“I’ll Understand”/Soul Children. An early single by the group Isaac Hayes and David Porter formed at Stax after their primary project, Sam and Dave, left the label. The group’s J. Blackfoot claimed Porter discovered him singing outside a liquor store on McLemore Avenue near the Stax studios, which is an R&B story if ever there was one.

“I’ll Close My Eyes”/Jimmy Smith. This was the flipside of the single release of “Organ Grinder Swing,” which crept to Number 92 on the Hot 100 in October 1965, a beautiful late-night ballad with Kenny Burrell on guitar.

“I’ll Always Love You”/Spinners. An early track from 1965 by the group known in England as the Detroit Spinners.

“I”ll Be Around”/Spinners. On the radio this week in 1972, when they were still known in England as the Detroit Spinners.

“I’ll Never Sail the Seas Again”/Detroit Emeralds. A group not known in England, or anywhere else to my knowledge, as the Emeralds, and also not from Detroit.

“I’ll Never Fall in Love Again”/Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach. I have a couple of friends who are pained greatly by the knowledge that I generally have no use for Elvis Costello. It’s an opinion that goes back to the 1970s, and one that was reinforced by his early slur on Ray Charles, done in a craven attempt to get publicity. I gotta admit, however, that I admire quite a bit of what I’ve heard from him in recent years, especially this version of the Dionne Warwick classic, from a 1998 collaboration with its co-author.

“I’ll Never Be the Same”/Nat King Cole Trio. Recorded long about 1943. The trio at this time featured Nat at the piano, Oscar Moore on guitar, and Johnny Miller on bass, although this particular track is a piano solo.

“I Will Not Dance”/Chi Coltrane. Also on the radio during this week in 1972 was Chi Coltrane’s indelible “Thunder and Lightning.” She never did anything else quite as good, but she’s still gigging, and her website’s got the pictures to prove it. Here she is on German TV circa 1973:

One More Thing: You have probably noticed the Christmas-themed TV ads already. Some of our favorite blogs are getting ready for the holiday, too: AM, Then FM is seeking requests for this year’s Three Under the Tree, and Popdose is preparing another dose of Mellowmas. We’ll do something around here, too. But not for a while yet.

I should start keeping track of the number of e-mail solicitations I receive each week asking me to review new music. It’s a lot, and most of them I ignore. For one thing, this is not the sort of blog that deals much in new music, and even if it was, many of the solicitations I get involve genres I’m not interested in—Balkan techno, for instance. Yet every once in a while, something in a press release catches my eye and makes me want to lend an ear—so lately, I’ve been listening to an album by a guy named Stephen Luke.

Luke’s album is called No Man’s Land, and his story is rather interesting. He played guitar in bands around Cincinnati as a young man, but like many musicians, gave up sustained gigging to raise a family. Relatively late in life, he accidentally cut two tendons on his left index finger while trying to open a box with a knife. His physical therapist recommended the guitar as a way to rehab the injury, and Luke found his interest in music rekindled. He fell in with a fellow Cincinnati musician, blues guitarist Kelly Richey, and says, “She took me from pitiful to powerful in about six months.” She ended up producing No Man’s Land.

I make no apologies for failing to be musically adventuresome at my advanced age. Balkan techno may be all that and a bag of chips, but I ain’t going there. Any new music I’m going to like will be inspired by the sort of stuff I’ve been digging for years. Stephen Luke’s music clearly is. (The fact that he’s about as advanced in age as I am certainly helps.) Luke’s press release compares him to James McMurtry, Steve Earle, Tom Petty, and John Hiatt, and says he’s influenced by Neil Young, Van Morrison, and Bob Dylan. That’s about right, but you’ll have to tell me what you think. Snag the tune below, and listen to some more of Luke’s music here.

Worth a Look: Although I should be working on stuff that gets me paid, I have been killing time over at Vinnie Rattole’s website for the last couple of days. The site wasn’t created as a music-themed blog, although it’s become one recently—Vinnie has downloadable scans of interesting musical ephemera, including the comic-book adaptation of the Beatles film Yellow Submarine, vintage copies of Hit Parader and Circus from the early 80s, and the famous KISS comic book series. What you might remember about the latter is that the ink used for the first issue was said to have contained vials of blood from each of the band’s four members. According to Vinnie, “An unsubstantiated rumor claims that there was a mixup at the printer and the bloody ink was instead used for an issue of Sports Illustrated.” Which is too awesome not to be true.

“Hurricane”/Stephen Luke (buy it here)

Over the weekend, we started looking at the 20 records that peaked at Number 98 on the Hot 100 between 1955 and 1986. In this installment covering the last 10, we pick up in 1967.

“Walkin’ Proud”/Pete Klint Quintet (10/21/67). This group, from Mason City, Iowa, packed ‘em in around the Midwest in the 1960s, and are, according to their Iowa Rock and Roll Music Association Hall of Fame page, one of the most successful groups in Iowa recording history. Now when it comes to producing rock stars and classic recordings, Iowa ain’t Liverpool or anything, but listen to “Walkin’ Proud” and then try to tell me it ain’t a really good pop record.

“Dear Delilah”/Grapefruit (3/2/68). Like Jackie Lomax, Grapefruit benefited from an association with the Beatles, but not enough to become more than a footnote. They were managed by an associate of Brian Epstein’s, John Lennon gave the band its name and appeared at press conferences introducing them, and Paul McCartney directed a video for them. All of this explains why Around Grapefruit, a compilation of single releases, sounds the way it does. The group’s second album, conceived as a whole, abandoned the Beatlesque sound, with a predictable result.

“Happy”/Hog Heaven (5/1/71). At the close of the 1960s, an exhausted Tommy James moved out to the country and found Jesus, leaving the rest of the Shondells to do what they could on their own. They formed a band called Hog Heaven, which hung around long enough to make one album.

“Top of the World (Make My Reservation)”/Canyon (7/25/75). Canyon is a band of hazy origin, produced by bubblegum masters Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz, that recorded at the studio K&K built on Long Island. Kasenetz/Katz productions tended to be less sugary than many other bubblegum records, and some of them could rock, like the demented “Quick Joey Small,” a particular favorite of this blog. “Top of the World” certainly does, although its good-time boogie would have sounded a little bit dated even in 1975.

“Foot Stompin’ Music”/Hamilton Bohannon (9/20/75). Originally hired by Stevie Wonder as a drummer in 1965, Bohannon eventually became the arranger and bandleader for Motown’s live shows before the label departed Detroit for Los Angeles in the early 70s. After that, recording under his own name, he scored a string of club hits, including “Foot Stompin’ Music,” that also got some airplay on R&B radio before things slowed for him in the 80s. He hasn’t recorded since 1990.

“Chinese Kung Fu”/Banzaii (10/11/75). In late 1974, Carl Douglas scored an international hit with “Kung Fu Fighting.” “Chinese Kung Fu” is”Kung Fu Fighting” turned inside out—it uses the same chords, and it’s possible to sing the same lyrics to it. And it’s also easy to imagine it as a dance-floor monster.

“Tubular Bells”/Champs’ Boys Orchestra (6/5/76). A disco version of the theme from The Exorcist, which was backed on some 45 releases by a disco version of Chuck Mangione’s “Land of Make Believe.” It’s actually not horrible.

“Say You Love Me”/D.J. Rogers (7/10/76). A lovely piano-driven ballad that deserved a better fate. Certainly Rogers thought so. When “Say You Love Me” and a handful of his other singles failed to hit big, he was quoted in Soul magazine blaming RCA Records for its failure to promote him properly, suggesting that the label was a tax write-off for RCA’s parent company. Several of Rogers’ later releases hit the R&B charts in the late 70s and early 80s before he started to record gospel. Today, he’s a preacher in Los Angeles.

“You to Me Are Everything”/Revelation (8/7/76). “You to Me Are Everything” is a terrific song—so terrific that three versions of it were on the Hot 100 at the same time, by the Real Thing (a version that topped the charts in Britain), Broadway, and Revelation. The competition couldn’t have helped the chart performance of any of ‘em.

“The Part of Me That Needs You Most”/Jay Black (9/20/80). Jay Black was the Jay of Jay and the Americans, and this is pretty much the sum total of his solo career.  “The Part of Me That Needs You Most,” written by Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn, was also recorded by Exile, B.J. Thomas, and Billy Crash Craddock. The most notable fact about Black’s version is that it spent four weeks on the chart, three of them at Number 98.

When I started exploring the bottom of the charts during One Hit Wonder Week in September, I thought we might unearth some interesting history, but I had no idea how much. So you can bet that another installment, on Number 97 next time, is not far off.

“Dear Delilah”/Grapefruit (buy it here)
“Happy”/Hog Heaven (seven-minute album version of the 3:39 single; buy the album here)

(Edited to add WNEW.com link.)

When I was a kid, I didn’t miss a lot of school days because of illness, but I remember the slightly disorienting feeling of coming back after being gone. It was clear that the world had continued operating normally without me—and I was always a little surprised. Now that I’m older and wiser, I understand that the Internet has been just fine without me this past week—but I’m still a little bit surprised. Here’s a rare Saturday post to get the Earth back on its axis, continuing our series on the bottom of the Hot 100. Here are 10 records that represent the only Hot 100 appearance for their respective performers, all of which peaked at Number 98.

“The Reason”/5 Chanels (12/22/58). The Chanels were a doo-wop group from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. After “The Reason” was released, the group was forced to change its billing because their name was too close to the Channels, a different group on a rival label.

“One More Sunrise (Morgen)”/Leslie Uggams (9/14/59). A ubiquitous TV presence in the 70s and 80s (most notably as Kizzy in the miniseries Roots), Uggams was only 16 when she cut an English version of “Morgen,” which had been a hit in its original German earlier in the year by Ivo Robic.

“A Lover’s Question”/Ernestine Anderson (2/27/61). Anderson was one of the more highly touted singers in jazz during the late 50s, but saw her career stall as the popularity of jazz began to fade in the early 60s. From the 70s to the 90s, she recorded prolifically, however. This is her version of Clyde McPhatter’s original.

“The Image Part 1″/Hank Levine (10/9/61). In 1957, radio programmer Chuck Blore introduced a format he called “color radio” at KFWB in Los Angeles, and later took it to stations in San Francisco and Minneapolis. It featured a distinctive set of jingles, which became the inspiration for “The Image.”

“Across the Street”/Lenny O’Henry (5/30/64). Lenny O’Henry was born Danny Cannon, and was once in a group called the Vibra-Harps with Donnie Elbert, whose covers of “Where Did Our Love Go” and “I Can’t Help Myself” charted in the States in 1971 and 1972. And that seems to be all there is to know about Lenny O’Henry. As for “Across the Street,” it’s apparently much beloved by beach music aficionados.

“Jamaica Ska”/Ska Kings (7/11/64). Byron Lee and his band backed several reggae stars in Jamaica’s pavilion at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. Hoping to capitalize on any interest sparked by the fair, Atlantic signed Lee to a record deal. “Jamaica Ska” got a bit of airplay, but two full albums failed to make much of a dent in the States. Never mind, though: Lee would record almost continuously for nearly 40 years before his death a year ago this month.

“You’re Next”/Jimmy Witherspoon (3/6/65). Witherspoon took the long way from Gurdon, Arkansas, to stardom, singing on Armed Forces Radio with a big band in India during World War II. His most famous record is probably the blues standard “Ain’t Nobody’s Business,” cut in 1949, but “You’re Next” was his lone pop-chart entry.

“I Spy (for the FBI)”/Jamo Thomas (3/26/66). From the Bahamas via Chicago, Jamo Thomas intended to capitalize on the spy craze in the mid 60s with “I Spy (for the FBI).” It’s some of the best fake Motown music you’re ever going to hear.

“Any Way That You Want Me”/Liverpool Five (12/24/66). They were English, but none was from Liverpool, and their first major taste of stardom came in Japan. They were frequently featured on TV shows such as American Bandstand and Shindig!, and frequently shared the bill with fellow Englishmen such as the Rolling Stones and the Kinks. Their sound was more garage-band than British-Invasion, although “Any Way That You Want Me,” originally cut by the Troggs, fits the mid-60s British pop-rock template. It was their only official sniff of the American charts. (It’s the third song in this YouTube clip.)

“When the Good Sun Shines”/Elmo & Almo (6/10/67). A studio creation by producers Charlie Koppelman and Don Rubin, which was intended to pave the way for an animated cartoon series and a Peanuts-style comic strip. According to a June 3, 1967, article in Billboard, the series would feature cartoon characters against live backgrounds and musical performances. More intriguing, “the artist who [will do] the comic strip was living in singer/composer Tim Hardin’s basement. He, too [like the singers who provided voices for Elmo and Almo] will remain anonymous.” The song was written by Gary Bonner and Alan Gordon, who were mentioned here just a week ago—and it may be Bonner and Gordon who are singing on the record. (Neither the TV series nor the comic strip ever got made, as best I can tell.)

In the next installment: 10 more one-hit wonders who peaked at Number 98, including one of the top Iowa bands of the 1960s and a disco version of “Tubular Bells.” Admit it—you can’t imagine how life goes on without this sort of thing, can you?

At WNEW.com: Gordon Lightfoot’s greatest hit. (It’s a post I’m especially proud of, so go read it. Then comment on it, because nobody ever comments on anything over there.)

“When the Good Sun Shines”/Elmo and Almo (out of print)

You may have noticed a distinct lack of activity in this space this week. My official excuse is that I’ve got actual remunerative labor to do, but not much of that been done either, as I’ve been fighting a cold that’s reduced my enthusiasm for everything apart from huddling under a blanket on the couch. I hope to get something together for tomorrow, however, and I’ve already written a Rock Flashback for WNEW.com that will run over the weekend.

In the meantime, please enjoy this video of a ferret and a guitar.

Like 10 million people across the country, I bought Norah Jones’ debut album Come Away With Me in 2002. I wanted to like it more than I do. It’s pleasant enough, but every song sounds like every other song. (That wasn’t a problem on her 2003 alt-country project, the Little Willies, which I’ve listened to more often than anything else she’s done.) I’ve got her second album, 2004’s Feels Like Home, but I’ll bet I haven’t listened to it more than half-a-dozen times. Somewhere on this computer are bootlegged tracks from a live performance of Not Too Late, which came out in 2007, but not the album itself. But if her new single is any indication, her forthcoming album, The Fall, is going to get a lot more attention from me: “Chasing Pirates” is great stuff. VH1’s official video player won’t embed here, so I’ve nicked this version from a YouTuber.

Monty Python fans may find that the video reminds them of The Crimson Permanent Assurance, the Terry Gilliam short that is the prologue for the final Python film, The Meaning of Life. The music itself might remind Tom Waits fans of The Mule Variations—some of the same people involved with that record are on this one. The Fall will be released on November 17.

Continuing the pirate theme, check out the trailer for Pirate Radio, the forthcoming film inspired by Radio Caroline and other shipboard pirate stations of the 1960s, which brought rock music to the UK at a time when the BBC refused to play it. Originally titled The Boat That Rocked (a much, much better title than Pirate Radio, which is itself better than the French title, Good Morning England), it stars Philip Seymour Hoffman and Kenneth Branagh. I’ll watch both of those actors in anything—and the idea of Hoffman as a rebellious radio DJ is almost too good to be true.

Pirate Radio opens on November 13. The early reviews have been pretty good, although one of the writers over at Popdose says the film was re-edited and re-titled after a so-so debut in the UK. It’s got a hell of a soundtrack, too, although if you read this blog, chances are you’ve got most of the music already.

At WNEW.com: A look back at one of the forgotten pop-cultural events of the 1960s and its connection to rock ‘n’ roll.

I haven’t got a good opening paragraph for this post, so let’s just go with some Top Fives, from 16, 24, 32, 40, and 48 years ago this week.

Cash Box, week of October 30, 1993:
1. “Just Kickin’ It”/XScape
2. “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”/Meat Loaf
3. “Dreamlover”/Mariah Carey
4. “All That She Wants”/Ace of Base
5. “The River of Dreams”/Billy Joel

Comment: It shocks me to realize that the only one of these songs I wouldn’t mind hearing again is the one by Ace of Base, although I remember digging “The River of Dreams” at the time. Now, however, feh.

Cash Box, week of October 26, 1985:
1. “Take on Me”/a-ha
2. “Money for Nothing”/Dire Straits
3. “Part-Time Lover”/Stevie Wonder
4. “Miami Vice Theme”/Jan Hammer
5. “Saving All My Love for You”/Whitney Houston

Comment: These, too, were part of the soundtrack on that memorable Halloween night of ‘85. If you wanted to pick a single musical week that typified the 1980s, you could do worse than this one.

WLS, Chicago, week of October 29, 1977:
1. “You Light Up My Life”/Debby Boone
2. “Star Wars-Cantina Band”/Meco
3. “Nobody Does it Better”/Carly Simon
4. “Do Ya Wanna Get Funky With Me”/Peter Brown
5. “Keep It Comin’ Love”/KC & the Sunshine Band

Comment: The theme song from the most enduring movie of the 1970s becomes an enormous hit, but in a disco version. That fact tells you pretty much all you need to know about the 1970s.

WHBQ/Memphis, week of October 25, 1969:
1. “Something”-”Come Together”/Beatles
2. “Baby It’s You”/Smith
3. “Lady Jane”/Plastic Cow
4. “Take a Letter Maria”/R. B. Greaves
5. “Smile a Little Smile for Me”/Flying Machine

Comment: “Plastic Cow” is actually derived from the title of the album The Plastic Cow Goes Moooog, a synthesizer record by Mike Melvoin, the veteran composer, producer, arranger, and musician. “Lady Jane” is the Rolling Stones tune. Also included on the album: covers of “Spinning Wheel,” “Lay Lady Lay,” “The Ballad of John and Yoko,” “One,” and the least bad-ass versions of “Born to Be Wild” and “Sunshine of Your Love” in the history of the world. Neither the original “Born to Be Wild” nor the original “Sunshine of Your Love” strike me quite as bad-ass, however, as “Baby It’s You”:

Cash Box, week of October 28, 1961:
1. “Runaround Sue”/Dion
2. “Big Bad John”/Jimmy Dean
3. “Hit the Road Jack”/Ray Charles
4. “Bristol Stomp”/Dovells
5. “Sad Movies (Make Me Cry)”/Sue Thompson

Comment: Three iconic hits at the top, plus the Dovells, a Philadelphia group that counted one Len Borisoff among its members; he later changed his name to Len Barry and recorded his own iconic hit, “1-2-3.” Sue Thompson was a combination breathy/twangy singer who scored a couple of pop hits, “Sad Movies” and the painful “Norman,” before settling into a country career.

Recommended Reading: As we watch October turn to November this weekend, check whiteray’s terrific essay on autumn: “I think the season may be both gift and obligation at the same time. If autumn does have a price, though, it’s not just winter’s winds. I think that price is closely related to the weight of autumns gone by.” I wish I’d written that. The post includes several evocative tunes from the autumn of 1975 as well, and there’s not a plastic cow among ‘em.

“Sunshine of Your Love”/Mike Melvoin (out of print)

The standard length of a pop song has long been considered three minutes, even though pop songs haven’t consistently been three minutes long for a generation or more. The creep began in the 70s—American Top 40 went from a three-hour show to a four-hour show in October 1978 because the records were getting so long—and it’s continued to this day. But if brevity is the soul of wit, it must also be the soul of music. Think of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s classic singles, for instance, practically none longer than 2:50 and some as short as 2:05. So anyway: Here’s a random selection of songs from my music stash that run between 2:59 and 3:01. Your mileage may vary—the length of an mp3 does not necessarily correspond to the official timing on a record—but this is what I’ve got.

“My Baby Loves Lovin’”/White Plains. One of the mighty quartet of Tony Burrows records that ran the charts early in 1970. Hear it here, then check the version Elton John recorded for an album of soundalike hits released scant weeks before he became a star.

“Celebrate”/Three Dog Night. Written by Gary Bonner and Allan Gordon, who also wrote “Happy Together” and “She’d Rather Be With Me,” and featuring all three of the group’s singers, Danny Hutton, Cory Wells, and Chuck Negron. Live performance from Soundstage here.

“I’m Only Sleeping”/Beatles. Features backward guitar lines played by George, and differences between the mono and stereo versions, if Wikipedia can be believed.

“God, Love and Rock and Roll”/Teegarden and Van Winkle. One of my favorite one-hit wonders, and one we’ve discussed here before. Listen here, where it’s preceded by a classic CKLW shotgun jingle

“People Get Ready”/Kenny Rankin. The Impressions song, from Silver Morning, by the singer/songwriter who died earlier this year.

“Sad Day”/Rolling Stones. The B-side of “19th Nervous Breakdown,” and a pretty good song.

“Invisible Man”/Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators. You’d swear this group is from the days of the three-minute pop song, but their album Keep Reachin’ Up was actually recorded in 2005.

“Warm Love”/Otis Clay. From a 2003 Van Morrison tribute album featuring various R&B stars, including Little Milton, Bettye Lavette, Eddie Floyd, Ellis Hooks, and others. The original is from Hard Nose the Highway, and is very fine indeed.

“Don’t Ask Me Why”/Billy Joel. I was never quite sure what this Latin-flavored earworm was doing on what was supposed to be Billy Joel’s hard-rock album, Glass Houses, but it’s harmless.

“They Don’t Know”/Tracey Ullman. Now THIS is a three-minute pop song. Although the video cuts off a few seconds early, it goes on long enough for a special guest to appear.

When the sales rep first handed the radio station’s rate card to the client, he burst out laughing. The rep sat there mortified, and her mortification got even worse when the client called to his partner in the outer office, “Come on in here! You’ve got to see this!” She thought they were laughing because the cost of the spots was too high. In fact, they were laughing because they’d come to town from Dallas, and they couldn’t believe how cheap it was to get on the radio in Macomb, Illinois.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Some relationships between radio stations and clients are just business. With this particular client, the bar in one of the local hotels, it was synergy. We were the lone Top-40 station in a college town, so they benefited from being on our air all the time; when they became the hottest party place in town as a result, we benefited from our association with them. They’d run a hefty schedule every week plugging whatever they were doing on the weekend. One of their most unusual promotions was called Pressure Night. Starting at 9:00, tap beer would be 25 cents, and the taps would continue to be 25 cents . . . until somebody used the restroom, then it was back to full price. (It would usually last about 20 minutes, and the person who broke the seal would usually be somebody who was clueless about the whole thing.)

Often, what the bar was doing on the weekend involved us. We’d frequently do a live broadcast from the place on Friday or Saturday nights, and the remote breaks always sounded great because it was clear on the air that the place was packed. Among those having the most fun: the radio crew. The bartenders were under orders to take good care of us, and during a postgame party one football Saturday, I realized around the midpoint of the broadcast that I’d had far too much to drink for somebody who had to be on the radio. On future remotes, I resolved to stick to diet soda until I was completely off the air.

On Halloween Night 1985, the weather was miserable. It had been raining all day, the wind was whistling, and the temperature was in the mid 40s. We weren’t expecting very many people to venture out on such an awful night, particularly in costume, yet venture they did. By 10:00, the bar was full and the party was raging. Even I was in costume that night, sort of. I’d bet a friend that the Chicago Cubs would finish ahead of the St. Louis Cardinals in 1985; the loser of the bet had to be photographed in public wearing a T-shirt of the winner’s team. The Cardinals lost the World Series that season; the Cubs, after their miracle 1984, finished fourth. So there I was, in a St. Louis Cardinals T-shirt and a mask of Bob Uecker, the former Cardinal-turned-broadcaster.

Somewhere in my archives I have a tape of the remote we did that night, and it sounds like the greatest blowout in the history of mankind. (This may have been before the institution of my no-drinking-on-remote rule.) At some point during the night, we learned that the other bars in town, some of which had promoted their Halloween events on our air, were dead. We had the only real party in town.

In 1985, radio was what I lived to do. The fact that I made practically no money doing it couldn’t have mattered less. When I was in a crowd with a mike and a set of headphones, where everybody knew who I was, it felt like the only thing in the world worth doing. It wouldn’t long before I’d begin to imagine that there were other things in the world worth doing, too. But on that rainy night, the radio station’s success felt like a personal triumph, and it was as intoxicating as anything the bartenders could have served me.

Here’s a song we probably played on the radio that night. If the DJ had played it in the bar, we’d have had ourselves a singalong.

Erratum: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is on ABC tonight. Yesterday’s post said it was on last night, because this is not a very good blog, really. But you ought to have the show on DVD anyhow.

Recommended Reading: Today at WNEW.com in Rock 101, just where the hell did “Monster Mash” come from, anyhow?