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The documentary Twenty Feet from Stardom (2013) gave us a glimpse of how backing singers—performers who provide vocal harmonies and responses for featured artists—have contributed to twentieth-century American popular music.

The post A voice in the background: remembering Margo Quantrell appeared first on OUPblog.

Prince died Thursday, and I am sad. I've been asked to write about his death, but staring at the empty expanse beyond the flashing cursor, all I really know how to say is in the line above. Plenty of writers, more ably than I could, have written and spoken movingly about Prince since his death.

The post Prince and “the other Eighties” appeared first on OUPblog.

Fifty years ago, at the height of the British Invasion, The Yardbirds released "Heart Full of Soul" (28 May 1965) and The Kinks, "See My Friends" (30 July 1965). Both attempted to evoke something exotic, mysterious, and distinctly different from the flood of productions competing for consumer attention that summer. Drawing on Britain’s long fascination with “The Orient,” these recordings started sixties British pop down a path that proved both rewarding and problematic.

The post The British Invasion, orientalism, and the summer of 1965 appeared first on OUPblog.

By Gordon Thompson

As the Beatles made their historic debut on American television in February 1964, the cast of Oliver!, the actor playing the role of the Artful Dodger, and other acts on the show watched from the wings as the hysteria unfolded. Davy Jones had started his acting career on British television, making his debut appearance in the venerable Coronation Street followed by the gritty Liverpool police drama, Z-Cars. His diminutive stature made him a natural to play teens, but also suggested that he could be a good jockey, and he briefly pursued this career; but when a casting call came for the Broadway version of Lionel Bart’s Oliver!, Jones’ youthful looks seemed ideally suited to play the charismatic child thief and the title character’s mentor. In New York, he received a Tony nomination for his portrayal; however, he had watched the Beatles dominate British media in 1963 and, as they now similarly triumphed in the North America, he saw the next stage in his career.

America’s 1964 hunger for all things British and Jones’ obvious talent brought him to the attention of Screen Gems and American television, which cast him in an episode of the medical drama, Ben Casey. And in 1965, when Screen Gems began searching for talented and attractive actors for a comedy loosely imitating the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night, Jones’s profile easily rose to the top of the list. The Monkees debuted in the fall of 1966 on American television and, at 20, his boyish good looks made him an immediate fan favorite. Indeed, he ranked among the most popular male pop figures of the 1960s, his picture regularly appearing in teen magazines. But in an era when the Beatles implored you to turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream, a culture war raged over the Monkees’ authenticity. Nevertheless, Jones supplied strong vocal performances on Monkees’ recordings, especially “Daydream Believer,” the band’s last major hit, and the band with the assistance of a strong studio produced nearly perfect pieces of pop. Moreover, of the four actors who played the Monkees, Jones particularly had both the voice and the charismatic looks for a solo career.

While internal and external tensions eventually led to the end of both the television series and the band, Jones continued to perform, sometimes with fellow Monkee (and child actor) Mickey Dolenz and briefly with songwriters Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. In the post-Monkees years, he had a number brief appearances in television and film, and in the eighties, MTV reintroduced the television series and the band to a new generation of viewers.

In the nineties, a reunited Monkees toured and even last year Jones made a number of appearances with Monkees members Dolenz and Peter Tork. From his early experiences as a jockey, Jones maintained an interest in horse racing as an owner and his stable had success on both sides of the Atlantic. Nevertheless, performance remained important to Jones and he had a series of American concert dates scheduled for 2012 with his band.

Jones died this morning at his home in Indiantown, Florida at the age of 66.

By Gordon Thompson

On a cold winter’s day in early 1962, Brian Epstein and the Beatles huddled together contemplating their failed bid for a Decca recording contract and the bitter aftertaste of rejection that left emptiness in their stomachs. But hunger can feed ambition. Disappointments would ensue, but almost immediately Epstein would be the proverbial right man in the right place at the right time and meet a string of people who were looking for something not-quite-exactly unlike the Beatles.

The first full week of February 1962 would prove to be one of the most remarkable in the Beatles story. On Monday, 5 February, the Beatles’ drummer Pete Best — whom they had still not informed of Decca’s decision — called in sick and his band mates recruited an old friend from a rival band. Ringo Starr appeared that night with Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison in Southport, a city just north of Liverpool where perhaps his dry humor helped ease the pain, just as his personality would help anchor the band two years later as America exploded around them.

Although Decca artist-and-repertoire managers Dick Rowe and Mike Smith had turned them down, Epstein returned to London to argue for reconsideration. Over lunch in London on Tuesday, 6 February, Epstein sat politely arguing with Rowe and Sidney Arthur Beecher-Stevens, Decca’s sales manager, in an attempt to change their corporate mind. Rowe notoriously and with great self-confidence recommended that the manager return to record retailing in Liverpool. They were the experts. They knew these things.

Epstein did win a small “concession” from them: Rowe offered to arrange for ex-Shadow drummer Tony Meehan to produce the Beatles at Decca if the manager agreed to cover the expenses of about £100. Epstein kept his options open and made an appointment for Wednesday, 7 February to meet with Meehan whose squeaky-clean reputation and pop credentials the manager would have found appealing. Still, little about the meeting satisfied the manager. Meehan arrived late (Epstein’s bête noire) and his condescending comments about the Beatles’ audition only added salt to the wound. An interesting moment of musical potential slipped into history; but, the planets were still moving and, on Thursday, the orbs began coming into alignment.

With the addresses of other record companies in London and a copy of the Decca audition tape, Epstein employed this magnetic artifact in his quest to win a contract for his “boys.” Nevertheless, a quickly arranged meeting at Pye Records, the third largest label in Britain, also ended in disappointment. Executives at EMI, the largest music corporation in Britain, had already declined Epstein’s request for an audition even before Decca had accepted. His options narrowed.

Exterior of HMV, 363 Oxford Street, London in the 1960s. Copyright HMV.

What transpires on Thursday, 8 February arguably shifts the course of musical history. Combining a social visit with the need to t

MTV aired the latest episode of its ‘True Life’ documentary series over the weekend (focusing on the young people protesting in Zuccotti Park. The episode seems to have the same issues as the Occupy Wall Street movement itself: a lack of... Read the rest of this post