UNDERRATED ALBUMS # 7

‘for me…
 the greatest Girl Group of them all.’

Myrmidons Of Melodrama (comp. 1994)

By The Shangri-Las

During the last twenty years, equal opportunities in the field of popular music have expanded rapidly. Singing solo, in girl-groups, playing in all-girl bands or in bands with the opposite sex, the girls are everywhere (a note, before we continue, on nomenclature: in these politically correct times, I suppose we should be referring to the fairer sex (oh, dear); no, the er, ladies (oh, dear, oh dear) as females or women, but I’m afraid that, in this context, those terms simply don’t sound right and, as the accepted genre-term in the music industry is Girl Group, that is the one I’ll be using).

The ongoing gender-democratization in pop music has not, of course, always prevailed. In the past, girls had always been stereotypically regarded as fans and record-buyers, mooning over posters on their bedroom walls of the latest toothsome teen sensation (this paradigm can still apply big-style: consider the current Justin Bieber phenomenon). The notoriously snobbish Rock fraternity and its audience looked down on Pop in general and ‘chicks’ in particular. Special cases might be made for acts like Soul diva Aretha Franklin or a Singer-Songwriter such as Joni Mitchell but, by and large, girls were seen as decorative and trivial, lacking the creative and performing muscle of the men with all their instruments and, well, their sheer bollocks…  

Male Rock fans, historically, have had little time for Girl Groups (The Runaways, The Bangles and The Go-Go’s, by the way, were girl-bands; Girl Groups are purely vocal outfits).Too frothy, mushy, lovey-dovey; too poppy to be taken seriously. Could we not, though equally apply those terms to most pop music irrespective of the performers’ gender? But even serious music fans (i.e. men?) have their guilty little pop pleasures, although they may be less likely to own up to a sneaking appreciation for  the odd single by The Sugababes, rather than one by say, McFly (who at least play instruments and write their own songs, don’t they!)

Girl Groups however, have played a significant part in the development of popular music. In the 1940s, The Andrews Sisters were a highly distinctive act and much beloved during the war years. In the 50s came The Chordettes and the very showbizzy Beverley Sisters, then a staple of UK TV variety shows. Tamla Motown specialised in vocal groups during the ‘60s, producing The Supremes, Martha & The Vandellas and The Marvelettes et al who built on the success of The Shirelles - the first girl group to have a # 1 single (and two of whose hits are covered on the first Beatles album) - and Phil Spector’s Crystals and Ronettes . In the ‘70s, The Pointer Sisters flourished along with many Disco outfits in the US, whilst in Britain, the anaemic Bananarama were bewilderingly successful during the ‘80s. En Vogue and Destiny’s Child were classy American groups of the ‘90s, whilst Britain offered up The Spice Girls, All Saints, Eternal and the decidedly unclassy B’Witched. And they keep on coming: Atomic Kitten, The Sugababes, Girls Aloud and The Saturdays have all racked up plenty of hits in the 21^st century.

Most of these Girl Groups, in fact, enjoyed more chart success than the subject of this review, The Shangri-Las who, between 1964-66, had just five US Top 40 entries (in the UK, they had only two hits, although ‘Leader Of The Pack’ – a US # 1 – charted three times from 1965-76, reaching # 11, # 3 and #7). As for deciding which was the best of these groups, one could easily mount a case for The Supremes in terms of their longevity, artistic consistency and hits – twelve US # 1’s.

For me, however, the Shangri-La’s are always going to be the greatest Girl Group of them all, even though their entire recorded output adds up to little more than a couple of dozen tracks. And it’s not really a case of ‘less is more’ or opting for them because they are slipping into the mists of historical obscurity - because the strike-rate amongst that little treasure-chest of recordings is remarkably high - some of the most distinctive pop songs ever made are to be found on Myrmidons Of Melodrama.

The Shangri-Las, in common with all the other Girl Groups mentioned above, were a singles act. No Girl Group has ever made a classic album – the capacity to do so does not seem to be written into the DNA of the genre. Why then am I including this compilation in my series of Underrated Albums? Well, firstly, my wife, Lisa (Who Must Be Obeyed) has requested it, and secondly, I want the freedom of occasionally featuring compilations, soundtracks and live albums in the series. So there. 

The only two studio albums by The Shangri-La’s were both issued in 1965 and were rapidly superseded by compilations. Myrmidons Of Melodrama*1 is probably the best quality and most comprehensive of these, especially the 1994 version (confusingly, the repackaged 2002 set has fewer songs).   

Morton, Greenwich, Barry

Shadow Morton, maverick producer of all the material as well as being writer or co-writer of much of it, was, in 1964, an inexperienced young hustler who, so the story goes, blagged his way into a Brill Building office where Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich were working. Partners in love as well as song-writing, they gave Morton short shrift. Barry suspected him of having an unprofessional interest in Greenwich and dismissed him, issuing a challenge to prove that he was a writer. A piqued Morton wrote ‘Remember (Walking InThe Sand)’ that very night whilst sitting his parked car out at Long Island beach. When he returned, he did so not only with The Shangri-La’s – who he’d seen singing in a club – ready to perform it, but also future
superstar, Billy Joel, hooked up to play piano on the demo.
 

So the story goes...What is certain though, is that the finished recording of the song was a worldwide hit.

Naturally, it opens Myrmidons Of Melodrama, its doom-laden piano chords augmented by bass guitar and drums portentously setting the scene for the various tragic tales of teenage heartbreak which follow. The lead vocalist on ‘Remember’ – and most of the best songs - is Mary Weiss, the youngest of the group, and one of the greatest girl singers of the era. She recalls how, two years before, she had a summer romance with a boy who subsequently went abroad and has now written to say it’s all over. Forsakenly clutching his letter, she trudges through the sand (weirdly evoked by distorted brushwork on cymbals), the music grinding to a halt when she stops walking to cry out in despair: ‘Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no, no!’ Seagulls screech overhead whilst spectral backing vocals cluster about the narrator before it all fades away, desperation wrestling with déjà vu. 

It is an extraordinarily atmospheric couple of minutes which never seems to lose its power. Shangri La’s records - with their gripping lyrics of teen angst, dramatic melodies and imaginative production sound – stand the test of time well. Weiss’s supercharged singing and the other girls’ voices, often contributing to the foreground  rather than merely decorating the background, provide the key elements with their sibling harmonies (Mary and Betty Weiss being sisters, Mary Ann and Marge Ganser, identical twins). 

Shadow Morton, although clearly influenced by Phil Spector, created more of a sonic scenario than a ‘Wall Of Sound’, using fewer instruments and more effects

to accentuate the narrative heart of the group’s repertoire. Meanwhile, in line with their origins in the Queens district of New York, the Shangri-La’s were presented with a rather more worldly image than their rival girl groups, often being seen clad in tight-fitting leather outfits and boots. The combination of their unusual sound and look made them stand out from the competition.  

The biggest hit on Myrmidons was, of course, ‘Leader Of The Pack’, their deathless Death Disc, and the point in their short career which encapsulated their sound and image. View YouTube clips from the ‘60s of the girls performing on TV and you will find them set up in stiff, corny presentations by a media still unable or unwilling to take the music seriously. Concentrate purely on the record, however, and the mini-dramas of The Shangri-La’s songs work with remarkable conviction. ‘Leader’ has essentially the same instrumental constituents as ‘Remember’, with revving motorcycle effects replacing the seagulls and an utterly credible teen discussion, blended into the lead and backing vocals between Mary Weiss and the other girls as they relive the fatal crash of the biker boyfriend. When Mary screams, ‘Look out! Look out! Look out!’ the listener is actively compelled to believe in the tragedy looming up. 

‘Leader’ introduced several hallmarks of The Shangri-La’s style: 1) Loss - by misjudgement or death, or both; 2) The Generation Gap – the failure of teens and parents to communicate and compromise, and 3) Guilt – shame caused by 1 & 2 (all of which could be summarised as Romeo & Juliet Syndrome). In addition to these characteristics, we find 4) The Spoken Word Interlude via either dialogue or soliloquy - a crucial ingredient in the abiding charm of the songs.  

It’s also worth mentioning that the character ‘Mary’ is written into some of the songs, which must have helped Mary Weiss make an emotional connection to the lyrics in the studio (although, looking back on those angst-ridden performances during her tender teen years, the mature Weiss has asserted that she ‘had enough pain’ in her anyway to realise the songs and that ‘the recording studio was the place where you could let it out without everybody looking at you’).

‘Leader’ also consolidated the roles of the other girls who, rather than merely providing the harmonic wallpaper typical of other acts, were an unignorable presence on the records and sometimes took lead vocals on – it has to be said - the group’s less dynamic moments. 

Morton’s ‘Give Him A Great Big Kiss’, despite starring another mean and moody love-interest, is one of the most positive, deliberately funny songs in the repertoire. Introducing a touch of brass in the mix and rattling along with drum fills and handclaps, Mary fills in her breathless buddies’ girly queries with a staunch testimonial for her new squeeze: - 

                              ‘Well, what colour are his eyes?

                              I dunno – he’s always wearing shades.

                              Is he tall?

                              Well, I’ve gotta look up.

                              Yeah, well, I hear he’s bad!

                              Mmm, he’s good-bad – but not evil.’

                              Is he a good dancer?

                              Waddaya mean, is he a good dancer?

                              Well, how does he dance?!

                              Close – very, very close…’     

 In between, there is the irresistible chorus, with its Dave Clark 5 style boot-stomping,

‘I’m gonna walk right up to him / Give him a great big kiss / MWOAH!’ A dispensable alternate take with tom-toms higher in the mix is also included here.

This is the quintessential trio of Shangri-La’s hits, but Myrmidons rounds up at least another dozen tracks which rank alongside them (OK, almost nothing can compare to ‘Remember’). Their best records are the ones which maintain that original core sound, but occasional departures also work well – such as the feisty excursions into Motown, ‘Bulldog’ and ‘Right Now And Not Later’; the stirring prayer for Johnny to come marching home  from Vietnam in ‘Long Live Our Love’; the plangent ‘Maybe’ and ‘What Is Love?’, (both sung by Betty Weiss in a close, slightly sweeter approximation of her younger sister), and ‘Sophisticated Boom-Boom’ (sung by Mary Ann Ganser), probably an attempt by Morton to cash in on the French Ye-Ye craze. Mary Ann also took the lead on the Ikettes cover ‘I’m Blue’.

It’s back to the cemetery though with the storm-tossed ‘Give Us Your Blessings’ in which runaway lovers ‘Mary and Jimmy’, despairing of ever getting the approval of their folks, drive off to their doom failing to see ‘the sign that read Detour’. The song ends with the poignant image of their parents in the rain, kneeling in a group around the bodies of the lovers, with the entreaty of the title ringing in their ears. A different twist on a similar scenario is provided by Morton’s ‘I Can Never Go Home Anymore’, a hushed monologue ramped up by ominous strings, which tells the tale of a girl who defies her mother to run off with a boyfriend. Later, long after she’s forgotten the boy, she learns that Mom ‘grew so lonely in the end / Angels picked her for a friend’. Somehow the performance rises above even this bathos with the stricken Mary Weiss wailing ‘Mama!’ in the background as the cellos rise around her.

In ‘The Train From Kansas City’, Mary has received another letter, this time from an old flame who wants to reignite their love, but she has fallen for another and has the ring on her finger to prove it. She does, however, feel the need to tell her hapless ex the way things now are, face to face. Promising her fiancé that she’ll ‘be back in the time it takes to break a heart’, she boards the train amidst authentic sound effects of steam and whistles with the drums and piano chugging her away on her mission. But does she return, the listener can’t help but wonder? Well, she does if ‘He Cried’ is anything to go by, because, in what could be a sequel to ‘Train’, she bravely delivers The Hard Word to the tearful ex. Mary Weiss lives the vocal here, her voice aching with the pain of the narrator’s task, in the middle of a great throbbing brass and strings arrangement. 

What, I think, sets Weiss apart from and above the best Girl Group lead vocalists – contemporaries such as Diana Ross, Martha Reeves and Ronnee Spector, terrific singers all – is the way she consistently persuades the listener to suspend their disbelief with the sheer conviction of her performances.     

‘Out In The Streets’ and ‘Dressed In Black*2’ are two more paeans to biker boyfriends, the first of whom ‘grew up running free / He grew up and then he met me’. The narrator realises uncomfortably that, although he has compromised to accommodate her, his heart will always truly be ‘out in the streets’. He could be the same dude in ‘Dressed In Black’ who ‘they said was much too wild’ and who, since they split, now occupies Mary’s waking dreams where she ‘lives on just the memory / Of him caressing me / So soft, so warm’. Another great production here, on which can be detected the influence of both Phil Spector and Brian Wilson. In the coda, Mary ‘climbs the stairs’ whispering that she’s ‘alone once more’ where no-one can hear her cry. It’s another masterpiece.  

‘The Boy’, a Doo-Wop styled number by Morton with a faltering lead by Betty, and ‘Heaven Only Knows’, are both decent records, but are one-dimensional declaration- of-love pop songs which lack the narrative drama of the classic material. ‘Heaven’,  ‘Never Again’, in which Mary issues a final warning to an erring boyfriend amidst crashing tympani, and the mellifluous close harmonies of ‘What’s A Girl Supposed To Do?’ are amongst seven Barry / Greenwich titles on this collection, and neither of them quite hold up lyrically against their other four (‘Leader Of The Pack’; ‘Out In The Streets’; ‘Give Us Your Blessings’ and ‘The Train From Kansas City’). 

‘The Dum Dum Ditty’ by the writing team who would go on to provide The Monkees with hits, is, unsurprisingly, given its title, pure filler.‘You Cheated, You Lied’, which lifts the intro of The Beatles’ ‘If I Fell’, is as its title suggests, standard Shangri-La’s fare. The Zombies-ish ‘Love You More Than Yesterday’ is a strong also-ran, whilst ‘Wishing Well’ and ‘Hate To Say I Told You So’ never rise above the level of typical girl group fodder.

 

So much for the filler. ‘Paradise’, however, is another killer track, if you’ll excuse the pun. Also recorded by The Ronettes, it was co-written by the then unknown Harry Nilsson, and with its suitably soaring melody, it is a thinly veiled meditation on the attractions of a suicide-pact, of crossing a rainbow ‘to where we’ll be free’ and walk hand in hand ‘along the sand’ in an eerie echo of that original beach on ‘Remember’.

‘Paradise’ was the B-side of the extraordinary ‘Past, Present And Future’ written by Morton and Jerrys Leiber and Butler, with a little help from Ludwig Van Beethoven. Recently graced with a stately cover by Marianne Faithfull, the song is the culmination of all those theatrical spoken-word passages to be found on Shangri-La’s records. It is virtually a solo recitation by Mary Weiss, addressed to a would-be suitor over a lilting version of the ‘Moonlight’ piano sonata, whilst the other girls merely announce the tenses of the title. It begins with Mary reflecting on a key relationship in her past:-

                           ‘Was I ever in love? I called it love –

                           I mean… it felt like love. There were moments when…

                           Well… there were moments when…’ 

Those elipses suggest a multitude of possibilities before she tells the man that yes, she’d love to dance and ‘take a walk along the sand’ (that beach again, no doubt), but then she warns him:- 

                            ‘But don’t try to touch me, don’t try to touch me

                            Cos that will Never Happen Again.

                            Shall we dance?’ 

At this point an orchestra waltzes the protagonists away before returning them to the question of what will happen in The Future. Taking a nonsense phrase from an American nursery rhyme (‘A Tisket, A Tasket’) for children playing a variation of Kiss-Chase, Mary tantalisingly considers the chance of finding love again with ‘someone who will understand’. But then that possibility dissolves as Mary states - and with some finality:- 

                              ‘But at the moment, it doesn’t look good.

                              At the moment, it will never happen again;

                              I don’t think it will never happen again.’ 

With the subtlest suggestion of her voice breaking into a sob on the last word, a high violin streaks up briefly and it’s all over. There have been sinister interpretations of this song, but I prefer to think of Mary as a tragic phantom that occasionally regains human form to haunt the beach of her girlhood romances. Yes – that beach. 

Ideally, all Shangri-La’s compilations should begin with ‘Remember (Walking In The Sand)’ and end with ‘Past, Present And Future’. This one doesn’t. Oh, well – but, hey! at least this review does. 

N. B.   

Let’s face it, if you’re not susceptible to the odd dollop of schmaltz, then The Shangri-La’s are probably not for you, but the records are so well-made, the songs so artfully constructed and Mary Weiss so convincing a singer, that you’d have to have a heart of steel not to be moved by the sheer sound of these precious few testaments to the brief career of a unique girl group. 

Before the ‘60s were over, the four girls had drifted out of the music industry. Apart from an aborted recording session and a single live performance at New York’s CBGB’s club in the mid-70s, the group ceased to exist. 

George ‘Shadow’ Morton went on to produce Janis Ian, The Vanilla Fudge, Iron Butterfly and The New York Dolls before dropping out of sight. 

Mary Weiss, has, however, made a belated return to the fray with some live shows and Dangerous Game (2007), an album of original material with a band called The Reigning Sound. It’s a promising, if under-produced and under-arranged record, on which her singing still cuts convincingly through. Odd to reflect that such a great voice has been lost for all these years to the world of furniture consultancy…

Sadly, the Ganser twins are no longer with us: Mary-Ann died at the tragically young age of just twenty-two in 1970 of encephalitis, possibly complicated by barbiturate use; Marge also died prematurely  - of cancer in 1996, aged forty-eight.   

In a kind of grim, self-fulfilling prophecy, Amy Winehouse (1983-2011), when preparing to record Back To Black (2006), the second of the two top-selling albums that constituted her tragically brief career, presented producer Mark Ronson with a Shangri-La’s compilation for inspirational purposes. 

*1 Quite which bright spark at RPM came up with the title of this compilation, I don’t know, but if, like I was, you’re wondering what a Myrmidon is, then don’t expect a light-bulb to switch on after you’ve traced it in a dictionary…Answers on a postcard, please. Tacked on to the end of the CD are four amusingly quaint radio spots recorded by the girls at the height of their  fame: space which, as far as I’m concerned, might have been far more interestingly filled by the legendary seven minutes long original take of ‘Remember (Walking in The Sand’) – if, indeed, it actually exists…   

*2 You can hear Shadow Morton’s demo version of ‘Dressed In Black’ on a compilation album called Midnight Cryin’ Time (Various Artists). He’s no singer, but it’s not without charm.