"Be My Baby" by The Ronettes
Boom! Boom boom, cha! Boom! Boom boom, cha! Tied with "Slow Nerve Action" as my favorite drum intro ever...
Black screen. A single voice: "You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." The scene shows a young man getting out of bed, walking to the mirror. The dull roar of a bustling city, alive and kicking with the daily droan of modern transportation. Goes back to bed.
Harvey Keitel lying in bed. Boom! Boom boom cha! Boom! Boom boom cha!
Assuming you're not an uncultured cretin of the intelligence of a comatose caveman, you recognized the above anecdote as the opening scene of Mean Streets. Scorsese's first true masterpiece. But that's neither here nor there.
The point is, "Be My Baby" is among the finest two minutes forty-one seconds of pop history. It's raw, tuneful, orchestral, short but sweet! Yay Ronettes!
But Phil Spector is the real genius responsible. See, there's a belief going around that perhaps it's okay for Phil Spector to murder women in his spare time, just because he produced and wrote "Be My Baby". Perhaps the positives outweight the negatives in this case? Perhaps his defense team should cease sitting around with thumbs up their respective asses and instead merely play "Be My Baby" to the jury. He'll be acquitted, for sure. Or not.
But still. Take a lesson in background harmonies:
BE MY, BE MY BABY!
(Be my little baby!)
MY ONE AND ONLY BABY!
(Say you'll be my da-arling!)
BE MY BE MY BABY!
(Be my baby nooowww!)
Stereo? Who needs it. Echo? Phil needs it! The reverb on the drums is vital!
See, in a strange twist of fate, I was introduced to Spector's "Back To Mono: 1958-1969" compilation last week and, up until "In Rainbows" was unleashed, it ate up much of my musical listening diet. I don't know why, but disc one was most enjoyable for me. Something about those early doo-wop tunes are totally irresistible to me: "Pretty Little Angel Eyes", "Puddin' 'N Tain", "Why Do Lovers Break Each Others Hearts" are highlights, for example? Who cares if they all follow the same chord progression? Puddin' `n tain, puddin` `n tain, ask me again and I'll tell you the same. Disc three, in comparison, seemed a bit over the top with the wall-of-sound technique, didn't have the same charm.
But "Be My Baby" is still the lone masterpiece. It's a perfect melody. I love the chaotic drum fills during the ending refrain.
(Watch Mean Streets if you haven't already. Kill two stones with one bird! See full frontal nudity with scandalous 70's pubes!)
Phil Spector Back To Mono Box Set
(Acquit Phil!)
Boom! Boom boom, cha!
Black screen. A single voice: "You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." The scene shows a young man getting out of bed, walking to the mirror. The dull roar of a bustling city, alive and kicking with the daily droan of modern transportation. Goes back to bed.
Harvey Keitel lying in bed. Boom! Boom boom cha! Boom! Boom boom cha!
Assuming you're not an uncultured cretin of the intelligence of a comatose caveman, you recognized the above anecdote as the opening scene of Mean Streets. Scorsese's first true masterpiece. But that's neither here nor there.
The point is, "Be My Baby" is among the finest two minutes forty-one seconds of pop history. It's raw, tuneful, orchestral, short but sweet! Yay Ronettes!
But Phil Spector is the real genius responsible. See, there's a belief going around that perhaps it's okay for Phil Spector to murder women in his spare time, just because he produced and wrote "Be My Baby". Perhaps the positives outweight the negatives in this case? Perhaps his defense team should cease sitting around with thumbs up their respective asses and instead merely play "Be My Baby" to the jury. He'll be acquitted, for sure. Or not.
But still. Take a lesson in background harmonies:
BE MY, BE MY BABY!
(Be my little baby!)
MY ONE AND ONLY BABY!
(Say you'll be my da-arling!)
BE MY BE MY BABY!
(Be my baby nooowww!)
Stereo? Who needs it. Echo? Phil needs it! The reverb on the drums is vital!
See, in a strange twist of fate, I was introduced to Spector's "Back To Mono: 1958-1969" compilation last week and, up until "In Rainbows" was unleashed, it ate up much of my musical listening diet. I don't know why, but disc one was most enjoyable for me. Something about those early doo-wop tunes are totally irresistible to me: "Pretty Little Angel Eyes", "Puddin' 'N Tain", "Why Do Lovers Break Each Others Hearts" are highlights, for example? Who cares if they all follow the same chord progression? Puddin' `n tain, puddin` `n tain, ask me again and I'll tell you the same. Disc three, in comparison, seemed a bit over the top with the wall-of-sound technique, didn't have the same charm.
But "Be My Baby" is still the lone masterpiece. It's a perfect melody. I love the chaotic drum fills during the ending refrain.
(Watch Mean Streets if you haven't already. Kill two stones with one bird! See full frontal nudity with scandalous 70's pubes!)
Phil Spector Back To Mono Box Set
(Acquit Phil!)
Boom! Boom boom, cha!
Labels: Phil Spector, The Ronettes
1 Comments:
Yes, I think so. He needed 63 years to kill somebody playing with guns every now and then... he will need 63 more to do it again. Who could judge God? Anyway there's not a veredict yet. I think obviously he's innocent
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