One
Righteous Brother
by
Karen De Coster
by Karen De Coster
For
the past twenty years, when asked who my music favorites were, my
answer has been consistent: the Righteous Brothers or Bing Crosby,
depending on my mood. Truth is, I couldn’t pick one over the other.
Bobby
Hatfield, the tenor half of the Righteous Brothers, passed away
in his hotel room in Kalamazoo, Michigan on November 5, 2003, the
day he was scheduled to perform a show at Western Michigan University.
Surfing the web just hours after the initial wire reports were posted,
I came across that horrific, early-morning jolt. He was 63.
I
have long been a dyed-in-the-wool fan of the Righteous Brothers
and their music, and from the early 80s to the early 90s, I was
a significant collector as well. My collection consists of an original
tour poster from their 1974 reunion tour; tour books; rare import
CDs; myriad
mint albums, from their first to their last; and a good number
of mint 45s, including many
of their picture sleeves from the 1960s. And I am not ashamed
to admit that sometime in the early 80s, I developed a teenage crush
on Bobby, what with that blond-streaked hair, great tenor, and glowing
and humorous stage poise.
The
Righteous Brothers’ live shows provided some memorable times. At
one show, my future husband, stepdaughter, and I sat at a front
table. She was eight years old at the time by far the youngest
face in the crowd. Yet she was a huge fan and knew all of the old
songs. While standing up on her Dad’s lap, she kept shouting, "play
Little Latin Lupe Lu," and the boys obliged. Bobby Hatfield
and Bill Medley, the other Righteous brother, picked up on her presence,
and they proceeded to bait us from the stage. They asked her to
stand up, cracked jokes about their own ages and her youth, and
in the end, they were so pleased to know that she was at the concert
because she begged her father to take her there.
In
fact, her journey to becoming a Righteous Brothers fan started via
using Dad’s albums as ramps for her Hot Wheels cars, nevertheless,
she certainly proceeded to get more sophisticated from that point
on.
Another
fond memory was meeting Bill Medley, the baritone Righteous Brother,
at his Music City club in Fountain Valley, California, sometime
around 1990. Oh was he ever handsome, I thought. And that deep,
rich voice. After a short exchange with this blubbering, young fan,
Mr. Medley proceeded to kiss my hand in the friendliest manner before
we parted. My husband, standing nearby, and thinking of the Brady
Bunch episode where Davy Jones kisses Marcia’s cheek and she
gushes, "I’ll never wash my cheek again," said to me in
facetious tones, mimicking Marcia Brady, "Oh, but will you
ever wash your hand again?"
Three
months after Hatfield’s passing, and after reading the
various accounts of Hatfield’s career, I note that each newspaper
commentary sounds exactly like the one before it. Looking at these,
one would think that the Righteous Brother’s catalog doesn’t go
beyond "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'," "Unchained Melody,"
and "(You're My) Soul and Inspiration." Alas, commercial radio in
the United States is such that there is no airplay time for songs
beyond these top hits.
Essentially,
the Righteous Brothers were the birth of
blue-eyed soul. They were at the forefront of airwaves integration
with their rich, soulful, R&B-inspired voices. R&B outlets
started playing their music, thinking they were black. A
1960s Billboard article titled "Blue-Eyed Artists Herald
Musical Integration of Airways" says that "George Woods, an
air personality with WDAS, Philadelphia, came up with the term Blue-Eyed
Soul to cover these two white artists now receiving airplay on R&B
stations. Once the barrier was down, R&B stations began spinning
other white artists who could be said to have soul."
Like
many artists of their time, Bobby Hatfield and Bill Medley were
captured and inspired by black music, and especially the gospel
sound. They got together in 1962, and made their most superb R&B
music in the early years – 1963 through 1966 – when they were recording
and releasing records for the Moonglow label, with Bill Medley acting
as the producer. But it was the boys’ association with Phil Spector,
beginning in 1964, that produced their biggest and most memorable
hits, and with him as producer, they became a huge national act.
It
is said that they were quite skeptical of the musical style they
were producing under Spector, as his overproduction method was a
radical departure from their unembellished and straight-up Moonglow
recordings. Though the Righteous Brothers recordings with Spector
were indeed somewhat cyclic, he made them into mainstream pop stars
and allowed the rest of the world to discover these previously-unknown
treasures. All the same, their pre-Spector, Moonglow recordings
and post-Spector, Verve recordings remain as their finest work.
However,
only four or five Righteous Brothers, Spector-era songs are common
enough to receive mainstream radio airplay, and judgment of the
brothers’ musical repertoire is too often based on that token output.
Even their style of dress, consisting of orderly-looking, pleated
white bucks, bowties, matching turtlenecks, and church-boy haircuts,
downplayed the tremor that was about to occur when they let it rip
with their harmonious and thundering vocals.
If
truth be told, if you haven’t heard their songs like "My Babe,"
"Stranded in the Middle of Noplace," "Try to Find
Another Man," "Little Latin Lupe Lu," "This
Little Girl of Mine," "A Man Without a Dream," "On
this Side of Goodbye," "Justine," "Go Ahead
and Cry," "Fee-Fi-Fidily-I-Oh," "Hung on You,"
and the rest of their catalog of raw, unbridled rock ’n’ roll, then
you have not yet heard the
complete excellence or the full breadth of the Righteous Brothers.
The religious and gospel roots of the brothers is evident with magnificent
songs such as "He" and "In that Great Gettin’ Up
Mornin’."
Bobby
Hatfield's solos within the duo's recordings are breathtaking, and
faultless to boot. Solo efforts such as "Ebb Tide," "Unchained
Melody," "Something's Got a Hold on Me," and "For Your Love"
are just a few examples of what this man was capable of. His voice
is so rich, so light, so practiced, and so uniquely Bobby Hatfield,
that it almost seems surreal. He was certainly the most gifted tenor
of his era, and in my opinion, the most dazzling rock 'n' roll tenor
to ever lay down a vocal track.
I
am going to miss Bobby Hatfield's voice. I
am going to miss the boys' annual stops in Detroit, and indeed,
I have not missed a single, local show since the 20th Anniversary
reunion tour in 1982. Contrary to the Righteous Brothers song "A
Man Without a Dream," Bobby Hatfield was very much a man with a
dream. And he made it all come true.
Rest
in peace, dear Bobby. You really are in Rock 'n' Roll Heaven.
February
10, 2004
Karen
De Coster, CPA, [send
her mail] is a libertarian freelance writer, graduate student
in Austrian Economics, and a business professional from Michigan.
And thanks to growing up in a house full of much-older brothers
who saw rock ‘n’ roll as their ultimate liberator, she’s an avid
music collector of before-her-time music, especially of 50s and
60s Hit Parade, pop, rock, R&B, instrumental, surf, psychedelic,
soul, country, and bluegrass. Her greatest music passion is collecting
Billboard Top 100 singles from 19551969, especially the more
obscure, lower-order, charted singles. Joel
Whitburn’s books are her music bibles. She often reflects
on how it can be even remotely possible that Gene Pitney’s "Every
Breath I Take" never charted higher than #42 (in 1961). See
her Mises
Institute archive for more online articles, and check out her
website, along with her
blog.
February
11, 2004
Copyright © 2004 Karen De Coster
Karen
De Coster Archives
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