"...In This Case, They Doth Protest Just Enough..."

Only two things sure, it is said.

Death and taxes.

I'd suggest there's, at least, a third.

There really is no such thing as new.

Semantic distinctions and splitting of hairs notwithstanding, pretty much everything that is, or even has yet to be, is, if researched to the core, merely an evolution of, or variation on, a theme long ago discovered and/or created.

That observation is, of course, fair game for discussion and debate.

But let's save that for another, more existential moment.

Nickelback has, what I think is, a very cool song out now.

Give it a spin, cats and kitties....



Now, regardless of your philosophical predilections, there can be no denying that this piece is as catchy as all giddyup.

But, when you listen past the groove, the beat ripe for tapping of toes and/or fingers and the hey-ay-ay-ay-yeah daring you not sing along and zero in on the lyric, you discover that nestled amongst the aforementioned groove, beat and sing along, like an overlooked Cadbury egg in a gnarl of green plastic grass, is a lyric that can without much convincing be described as "protest".

As in "protesting the shortcomings of society and the cultural implications of said shortcomings, ad nauseum, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all".

So to speak.

And although this song is moving up the airplay charts only at a pace that a fairly alert snail could best, I've been featuring it on my radio show because, like I said, it's catchy as all giddyup.

Protest is profound.

But catchy is cool.

And, in that light, this song qualifies as being both profound and cool.

But not new.

Nigh on fifty years ago, 1962 to be exact, an industry respected, but little known publicly, folk singer named Malvina Reynolds wrote a song lamenting the, then new, nasty habit of atmospheric nuclear testing.

And, in a beautifully poetic fashion, highlighted the potential damage possible to the air we breathe and the rain we danced in from the fallout created by the nuking.

Two years later, in the midst of the British Invasion, The Searchers (of "Love Potion Number Nine" fame) recorded a version of Malvina's song in 1964 Mersey beat/orchestrated style.

It was never a "hit" hit, making it to the top twenty in the UK and the top twenty in the USA.

But it was then, and remains now, a remarkable version of a remarkable piece of work.

Profound.

And catchy as all giddyup.

"...Somebody Heard Them Sing and Said...'Man, That Was Righteous, Brother..'...Voila! A Duo Was Born..."

A picture is reputed to be worth a thousand words.

A song, on the other hand, can conjure up a thousand pictures.

Do the math.

This song, along with the thousand plus images conjured, has not only a timeless sound but more than just a few facts coming along for the ride.

It was co-written and produced by Phil Spector whose 50's and 60's pop genius was later overshadowed by his unfortunate habit of playing with loaded guns.

Although the song was recorded by The Righteous Brothers, the focus, and bulk, of the presentation is the baritone work of Brother Bill Medley (later to find further fame and fortune musically helping keep Baby out of the corner, with the assistance of Jennifer Warnes, on "(I've Had) The Time Of My Life" from "Dirty Dancing".)

One of the backup singers on "Lovin Feelin" was a young protege', and later singing partner and wife, of Phil Spector's then A&R guy, Salvatore Bono.

Cher.

And because, in the day, it was believed that a ballad that ran almost four minutes (actual time, 3:45) would never make it past the program director's desk to the station turntables, Spector solved the issue by simply having the label printed 3:05, instead.

And if all of that don't make you wanna close your eyes anymore when he/she kisses your lips, try this on...

As of 1999, the original 1964 Righteous Brothers version of this song has been documented by BMI (Broadcast Music, Inc) as the song that has been played more on radio and/or television than any other song in the 20th Century.

It is, quite simply, a love, a love, a love, a love you don't find every day.

And it was meant to be heard, now and forever, on a turntable at 45RPM.

Like this...