Q: You must have areal rewarding sense of accomplishment.
A: I was very lucky to find my niche in life–being an accompanist. I remember singers coming up to me and saying, “I love the way you play for me; you never seem to step on my lines.” Well, I was never a solo artist. I wasn’t a Buddy Rich. I’ll tell you a story. Milt Holland, the percussionist, and I were working years ago at World Pacific Jazz Records. I got a call for a Kathy Rich session, Buddy Rich’s daughter. I said, “Wow!” Buddy produced it and he was real sweet. I was getting into my car after the last session when Milt Holland comes running up to me and says, “Listen, Hal, Buddy would never say this to you, but I want you to know what he said.” Milt went up to Buddy before that and said, “Hey, Buddy, how come you’re not playing drums on your kid’s album?” Buddy turned around and said, “I wanted the best.”
(The Big Beat: Conversations with Rock’s Great Drummers, Max Weinberg w/Robert Santelli, 1984)
Master of the thunder…
and the rain.
To say more would be gilding the lily. Which, on more recordings than will ever be counted in this life, he never did.
Back when Phil Spector started hiding his soon to be wife, Ronnie Bennett of the Ronettes, from the world (and the Beatles), John Lennon would ask him “Where’s the Voice?”
When Brian Wilson first heard “Be My Baby,” the Ronettes’ first big hit, on the radio, he pulled off the road, and has said more than once that he’s played it every day since. He’s also said it wasn’t Phil Spector’s production that made the impact.
Ronnie herself reported her first meeting with Spector in her autobiography and described his response to first hearing her sing as something along the lines of “That’s it. That’s the voice I’ve been waiting for!”
Phil also frequently described himself as the only person who could have made Ronnie. or any of his other discoveries, stars, or at very least famous.
After reading Ronnie’s memoir years back (early nineties’ I’m guessing), I built some vague ideas and questions that had been rattling around in my head for about a decade (about how long it had been since I first heard “Be My Baby”), into a conclusion.
The conclusion: Phil Spector was the only person who could have kept Ronnie Bennett from becoming a superstar, and he used a three-step process. He signed her. Then he married her. Then he–no other word for it–tortured her.
You can read the book and find out the details–including the day John Lennon visited divorce court as a friend of both parties and came face to face with who Phil Spector really was.
Knowing all that, I still never quite understood “Be My Baby” as anything more than a great record with a great vocal.
Today, though, listening to the final volume of the Bear Family’s bottomless survey of “doo-wop,” broadly redefined as the vocal music of Black and Urban Immigrant America from 1938 to 1963, prepared for “Be My Baby” to fit the concept just like so many others (especially the early Motown acts, even including the Supremes and the Temptations) who aren’t usually included in the narrative had done.
I was still prepared for it when the famous intro, courtesy of Hal Blaine, brought the usual smile.
I wasn’t prepared for the Voice.
Having heard it a thousand times didn’t prepare me for it to cut through not only Spector’s gargantuan production, but every record that preceded it, not only on this final disc, but every disc that covered the twenty-five previous years. Today, on the way back from the doctor’s office, it hit me the way it must have hit Phil Spector, John Lennon, Brian Wilson….as something new and startling in the world.
It hit me as something completely new, no matter how much its similarities to Frankie Lymon and Brenda Lee were still obvious. They never had to fight Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound and none of those who did ever made it sound so easy to blast a clean hole through it.
Today, Ronnie did.
Maybe it was the Bear Family’s famously superior mastering or having surround sound in the car or just the mood I was in (getting past my annual with the endo is always a relief).
Maybe it was just that the sprinkling of girl group records in the latter volumes of the series had made me rediscover how different the quality of female yearning was from any attitude copped by the boys of that or any era.
Whatever it was, today, like no day before, she was the Voice, maybe because the Lost World she represented seemed even more lost than all the other Lost Worlds surrounding her.
Be sure to stay tuned for the conversation which, among other things, covers their plans for the upcoming “Christmas album” which would be A Christmas Gift tor You from Philles Records (later Phil Spector), the greatest Christmas album ever made and, of course, released the day John Kennedy was assassinated…the day John Lennon had to step in and save us from.