Sunday morning gospel: The Southern-Aires Gospel Singers--Heaven Is My Home (Westwood Record Co. 1016)

Whenever you see R.E. Winsett, Luther G. Presley, and Albert E. Brumley in the composer credits, and titles like Jesus Is Coming Soon, He Bore It All, and I'll Have a New Life, you know you're in for some country and/or bluegrass gospel.  But you have no way of predicting how country and/or bluegrass it's going to be until you lay the needle down.  In the case of the Southern-Aires Gospel Singers, a group the internet gives me no information about, the sounds are as down home as down home gets.  Anything more down home than this, and... I don't know.  It's impossible to imagine.

And it's impossible to imagine worse sound engineering.  If this material wasn't so fascinating, I wouldn't have bothered with it, because the voices are distorted, with an extremely exaggerated treble response.  Then again, we don't know what the engineer was handed in the way of a master tape--the singers could simply have been too close to the microphones during the taping.  At any rate, combining the channels and cutting the treble made for halfway listenable sound.  For significantly less terrible sound, at least.  I'm guessing early 1970s for the recording date--discogs has a very limited discography for the label (Westwood Record Co.), with no LP dates, right here.

You could easily believe these were recorded in 1928 or so--they have the sound of some of the family gospel quartets recorded during the early electrical era, if in somewhat better fidelity.  By "better fidelity," I mean a wider frequency range, though not much of one, considering.  All I know is that I've been astonished, ever since I thrifted this disc a couple decades ago, that a style of singing this old-fashioned would have survived into the 1970s.  I have a few other examples of stuck-in-place quartet singing, but this may be the example.  And, as for why there are five people pictured for a quartet, I believe the shyly smiling blonde is Bonnie Moore, pianist.  The singers are the older folks.  And if this LP has a handed-out-at-personal-appearances look, I'm sure it's because it was.  We usually call such LPs vanity projects, but these records were the bread and butter of these groups, so I don't think that term really applies.  "Very limited production" comes to mind as a phrase.

"The singers are originally from West Virginia," read the liner notes, and my reply is, No kidding!  These highly enjoyable and wonderfully old-fashioned (but not so skillfully recorded) performances make those of outfits like the Blackwood Bros., not to mention some of the smoother quartets of the 1920s, sound slick and urban by comparison, though, as is often the case with gospel, the biggest difference is in the delivery, not the material or even the actual harmonies.  I think it would be a mistake to categorize these performances as folk in any way, as Appalachian as they sound, because the popular gospel music of the 20th century is hugely a product of song books, the singing school tradition, and highly disciplined singing, regardless of the form in which it reaches us--either as a style that sounds fresh from the hills or, say, one that sounds more RFGH (ready for the Gaither Hour).  It's all from the same pool.  Anyway, to our offering.  Bad sound, but music that makes up for it.




LINK: Heaven Is My Home--Southern-Aires Gospel Singers





Theme
Heaven's Really Gonna Shine (Brumley)
He Bore It All (Baxter, Jr.-Stamps)
I'll Have a New Life (Presley)
Angels Rock Me to Sleep (Ramsey-Easterling)
Gonna Rise up and Shine (Eugene Wright)
Salvation Has Been Brought Down (Brumley)
Heaven Is My Home (Baxter, Jr.-Swilling)
Jesus Is Coming Soon (Winsett)
Hide Me, Rock of Ages (George)
When I Looked Up and He Looked Down (Brumley)
Echoes from the Burning Bush (Foust-Summar)
Shurley (sic), I Will Lord (Brumley)
Just a Little Talk with Jesus (Derricks)

Southern-Aires Gospel Singers--Heaven Is My Home (Westwood Record Co. 1016)

Lee

The Four Coins (Epic LN-1104; 1955)

I did considerable clean-up on my cover scans, and naturally the shiny silver quality of the four "coins" (the silver areas showing the singers' heads--a little creepy, but effective) shows up as flat gray, but the scan still looks far less beat up than the jacket.  And I had to do a lot of track splicing on My Anxious Heart, where a major tonearm slip happened at some time in the past, back when playing a record meant dooming it.  But, to use collector jargon, this is a tough LP.  If it shows up, be happy.  If you get a great copy, you're in Vinyl Heaven, and you need to check your bank accounts.  You'll find out you are no longer among, to use the Bible term, the quick.

But, hey, you're in Vinyl Heaven!

I'm on oral Prednisone because of bad bronchitis (caught just in time, just as it was turning into pneumonia), so I might be a little weirder than usual this post.  Bear with me, please.  Anyway, the very talented Four Coins of Pittsburgh were of Greek-American heritage and were signed to Columbia (and released on Epic) after first putting out sides on the Corona label--and darned if I can find a single Corona side to listen to on line.  Or for sale.  Of course, there's much, much (I mean, much) more to their amazing history, and I can't begin to improve on the many on-line write-ups, so please take a cyber trip and learn about the Coins.  Nice to see amazing success go with amazing talent, and in the first three tracks of this six (!) track 10-inch LP, you'll hear masterful "pop" covers of R&B/R&R material that, certainly in the case of I Love You Madly, improves on the original (by Charlie and Ray).  Meaning that the Diamonds didn't start the improving-on-the-original-version trend with 1956's (released in 1957) Little Darlin'.  The Four Coins had them beat.

I usually go with the originals in such cases, but I'll happily admit when a "pop" cover does it better.  It did happen.  And there are many instances of doo wop versions improving on standard pop numbers--The Ravens, with Count Every Star, Lee Andrews and the Hearts with Maybe You'll Be There and The Bells of St. Mary's, and the poster child for this trend--the Marcels' Blue Moon.

If the Four Coins' superb handling of R&B/R&R material is surprising at all, it would be because their musical director was Don Costa!

I'm not up on the history of the other two Side One tracks--you try Googling "Maybe" and "Croswell"--but I'm guessing they're white covers, too.  And beautifully done.  The flip is more "conventional" material--you just know We'll Be Married (In the Church in the Wildwood) isn't early rock and roll, but it's very entertaining.  That last track is weird, but good-weird.

This only contains a little over thirteen minutes of music, but, nevertheless, in its day this was a great lesson, to all buyers still confused by the record size vs. speed issue, that you get a lot more on a 10-inch LP than on a 78 rpm single.  One big problem was that people were used to paying a certain price for a certain diameter, and this is where the cheapo labels made a mint--by selling dirt-cheap LPs whose prices seemed reasonable to buyers who made the price-size correlation error.  And I just read on line that 10-inch LPs were on their way out by 1955 (Buster would know much more on that subject), but there were still plenty of folks confused by the size-speed issue by the mid-1950s--I'm sure of it.  You had millions of people raised on 78s, and suddenly (commercially, at least) there are three speeds, three sizes, and EP and EP sets.  There were at least three varieties of "albums" or album sets.  I can understand their confusion.

But we're talking about the Four Coins.  Hello.  Here they are.  They're great!  And let me know if there are any issues with the link.  Box has done one of its sudden changes ("improvements"), and while I do think Box is a great site, its habit of constantly revising things is, to put it frankly, very annoying.  They're trapped in that we're-offering-you-new-ways-to-do-things cliche, and internet users just want to go on line and accomplish things.  I'm happy with a short, functional menu.  I don't lie in bed at night dreaming of new options.




LINK: The Four Coins (Epic LN 1105; 1955)




I Love You Madly (C.Jones) (1954)
Maybe (Croswell) (1954)
My Anxious Heart (Sanford-O. Jones) (1955)
Rio Rita (J. McCarthy-Tierney)
We'll Be Married (In the Church in the Wildwood) (1954)
That's the Way (R. Green-Kane)

The Four Coins (Epic LN-1104; 1955)


Lee

Less Common Burt, Part 2--1955-1976

We--well, I--continue our series of less common Burt Bacharach sides, and included are some less-than-household titles and some well-known Burt numbers--the latter, however, in "alternate," lesser-known versions.  The famous titles include Blue on Blue; The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance; The Story of My Life; They Long to Be Close to You; The Windows of the World (Hal's Vietnam protest number); and What's New, Pussycat.  Famous numbers, only the performers are John Preston (who?), Jimmie Rodgers, Frankie Laine, Richard Chamberlain, Merv Griffin, and an unidentified singer (Pussycat).  Some of the lesser known titles are in the bad to mediocre range--Take Me to Your Ladder (terrible even by sex-hungry-women-aliens-on-other-worlds standards), Don't Unless You Love Me (maybe the most blah Burt number of all), Freddie and the Dreamers' I Fell in Love with Your Picture (which I can't picture anyone falling in love with), and Living Together, Growing Together, whose melody is pleasant enough but whose words are just dumb.  I don't know what I think of Little Betty Falling Star (you just know that's not a Hal title), except that I'm pleasantly surprised by the perfectly decent singing voice of George Hamilton (yes, that George Hamilton).

The Night That Heaven Fell is a near-classic, let down by its final section, which has a "Let's get this thing over with" feeling.  Too bad.  Send Me No Flowers, the theme from the Doris Day film, and Boys Were Meant for Girls are extremely pleasant numbers, and I'm not sure if I consider A Girl Like You a classic or something short of one.  It's quite lovely, and I'm assuming the lyricist, credited on the label as Anne Croswell with a single s, is this Anne Pearson Crosswell listed at IMDb.  At any rate, it's cool to see the "Burt Bacharach-Anne Croswell" credit on the label after encountering endless Burt pairings with Hal David, Wilson Stone, Paul Hampton, and Bob (The Coffee Song) Hilliard.  And novel to see Burt's name in first place, since typically the lyricist was listed first.  Such things are exciting to vinyl collectors.  We're weird people.  Oh, and I dig misspellings of Bacharach, though nothing quite matches this Columbia label snafu, in which Hal and Burt, by a typo, are turned into a three-man team:

Yup, H. David, S. Burt, and Bacharach.  This rivals anything I've encountered on the junk labels, so what was Columbia's excuse?

Back to topic, there are two masterpieces among the lesser-knowns, the first being It Seemed so Right Last Night, pretty much a more mature version of the infinitely better-known Carol King-Gerry Goffin Will You Love Me Tomorrow, which it predates by two years.  Same topic, and neither specifically mentions sex, so the earlier tune can't be charged with playing it safe by comparison.  If anything, Hal's words play it less safe--what else can "I loved you more than it was wise" possibly mean?  As much as I love Carole, her 64-bar mega-hit doesn't measure up to this overlooked gem, and Mary Mayo's magnificent performance may have a lot to do with that.  Burt toys with form to a dizzying degree (the lovely introductory chords pop up wherever Burt feels the need to put them), and Hal's words sound like less like rhymed lyrics than a heartbroken woman privately expressing her grief.  Extraordinarily eloquent, and so far ahead of the pop curve--absolutely brilliant, and anyone who can't feel the pain of the singer can't feel anything.

You might gather that It Seemed so Right Last Night is my favorite Burt-Hal.  It very well might be.  But there's also the run-over-by-a-speeding-train The Desperate Hours, featuring a performance by Eileen Rodgers that redefines the word "dynamic," with Eileen backed by a powerful Ray Conniff production and arrangement that rocks the needle off the record without pushing the dynamic level to the max and making everything uniformly LOUD--a practice that ruined many a rock single to come.  Conniff's expert use of echo, for me at least, makes it hard to endure some of the more echo-drowned rock discs of the 1960s.  Ray showed how to produce a rocking record (whether rock, jazz, or country) with artistry.  He showed that there's a lot you can do with sound in the studio without destroying it in the process.  Then came rock and sonic destruction became hip.  Smashing the guitars, amps, etc. was just the next logical step.  (No, I don't hate rock that much.  But it made a virtue out of deafening loudness.)

The very existence of this Eileen Rodgers disc seems to confuse some Burt discographers, because Burt and Wilson Stone apparently also wrote a promotional song, These Desperate Hours, for the 1955 movie The Desperate Hours.  Confused yet?  Mel Torme sang the latter title.  I've tried to piece together the facts behind this mess, but I gave up a while ago.  So where the hell does the Rodgers record fit in?  I have no idea, but I thank (insert deity of choice) for it.  UPDATE, 8/6/2023: See 8/5/2023 comment section entries: These Desperate Hours dates from 1960 and was not penned by Bacharach and Stone, nor was it connect to the 1955 The Desperate Hours!  My thanks to zeno.bardot for the info!

Merv singing The Windows of the World?  Why not?  I suspect he was no fan of the war.  Neither were Mitch Miller or, as mentioned before, Hal David.  The song touches me deeply, and if it's not a favorite of the Burt fans, it's their loss.  I've always considered 1965's What the World Needs Now a rather obvious anti-Vietnam song, and from the year when such songs were coming into vogue (though I hate to use a word like "vogue" in connection with war protest).  In 1965, Mitch Miller and the Gang, then on Decca, recorded the devastating A Ballad from Vietnam (The Rain on the Leaves).  Things that move our soul can come from the least expected sources.

Oh, and Blue Guitar, which I mentioned last time, though it wasn't in the playlist.  I absolutely love it, and it's corny, and Richard Chamberlain's singing is annoying, but the refrain is genius.  And if you didn't know that Richard did the first version (in 1963) of They Long to Be Close to You, you do now.  And the proof is in the playlist.  He doesn't do too badly, and the sluggish tempo can't be blamed on him--the conductor was Burt himself.  And, back to the subject of clunkers, I love the sheer awfulness of the anonymous Modern Sound label version of What's New, Pussycat (the title of which shows up in different punctuation, or none at all, from version to version), which makes me wonder if Modern Sound could actually have been that unable to find someone who sounded remotely like Tom Jones.  It's so bad.  BUT it retains the greatest part of the original single--the smashing glass in the intro.  The version on Jones' Decca Greatest Hits LP is a different version and far inferior to the single.  No smashing glass, for one thing.

Ian and the Zodiacs' garage-y version of This Empty Place doesn't hold a candle to Dionne Warwick's hit, but finding the single (at a long-gone flea market) alerted me to the phenomenon of British Invasion groups doing Burt.  Which is weird, because I'd grown up with Tom Jones' Pussycat and with the Beatles' version of Baby It's You.  It should have been old knowledge.  But I guess, when we forget something, we stop knowing it.  A deep philosophical question for a later post.



LINK: Less Common Burt, Part 2




All titles Bacharach-David, unless otherwise noted

April Fools--Aretha Franklin, 1972
This Empty Place--Ian and the Zodiacs, 1965
Send Me No Flowers--Doris Day, Arr. and Cond. by Mort Garson, 1964
In Times Like These--Gene McDaniels, Orch. Cond. by Felix Slatkin, 1960
Hot Spell--Margaret Whiting, 1960
The Night That Heaven Fell--Tony Bennett w. Ray Ellis and his Orch. and Cho., 1958
Boys Were Made for Girls--Everit Herter w. Orch. and Chorus Cond. by Hub Atwood, 1960
It Seemed so Right Last Night--Mary Mayo w. Ray Wright and his Orch., 1958
Don't Unless You Love Me (Bacharach-Hampton)--Paul Hampton, Orch. Cond. by Burt Bacharach, 1959
A Girl Like You (Bacharach--Anne Crosswell)--Larry Hall, Orch. Dir. by Al Caiola. 1960
Living Together, Growing Together--The 5th Dimension, 1972
Blue on Blue--John Preston (Hit Records 69)
What's New, Pussycat--No artist credited (Modern Sound MS 1012)
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance--Jimmie Rodgers, 1962
Little Betty Falling Star (Bacharach-Hilliard)--George Hamilton, 1963
The Desperate Hours (Bacharach-Stone)--Eileen Rodgers w. Ray Conniff and his Orch., 1955
Heavenly (Bacharach-Shaw)--Johnny Mathis, Arr. and Cond. by Glenn Osser
Blue Guitar--Richard Chamberlain, Cond. Bill McElhiney, 1963
They Long to Be Close to You--Richard Chamberlain,  Cond. Burt Bacharach, 1963
I Fell in Love with Your Picture--Freddie and the Dreamers. 1965
Faithfully (Bacharach-Shaw)--Johnny Mathis, Arr. and Cond. by Glenn Osser, 1959
The Story of My Life--Frankie Laine w. the Jimmy Bowen Orch. and Chorus. 1969
The Windows of the World--Merv Griffin, Arr. and Cond. by Stephen H. Dorff, 1976
Take Me to Your Ladder (I'll See Your Leader Later) (Bacharach-Hilliard)--Buddy Clinton, 1960


Lee

Sunday morning gospel: Joe Emerson's Hymntime (RCA LSP-2190; 1960)

This is a thrift find from maybe ten years ago.  I'd never heard of Joe Emerson, but the track listing convinced me to plunk down 99 cents, or whatever the sticky label said.  I peeled it off long ago, so lost is the history of what I paid.

Anyway, familiar gospel hymns--Higher Ground, Near the Cross, and Under His Wings--and two pop-sacred numbers, including one I was vaguely familiar with: You Go to Your Church, and I'll Go to Mine.  It was the number that made this a must-have, and Emerson's version is very good.

You Go to Your Church is credited to Seth Parker and Phillips H. Lord, who were actually the same person--Seth was a character Lord played on the radio. The number dates from a period when evangelical Christianity, a.k.a. evangelicalism, was still a much more inclusive and progressive thing than anyone today might imagine unless he or she had studied its history.  The other pop-sacred number, (When They All) Get Together with the Lord, with words by Moe (Collegiate) Jaffee, is less distinguished, though it contains a great line: "Then the right go on livin', the wrong get forgiven, When they all get together with the Lord."  Well, it sounded great the first time around.  Anyway, a more forgiving and ecumenical type of everyday faith on display here.  Things would change.

As a singer, Joe Emerson displays the kind of emotional involvement we'd expect from someone who had his own radio and TV series, plus regular gigs with Billy Graham.  I like the line-up of mostly old standards, but I don't like the omission of author credits--what we get instead are arranging credits for Emerson and music director Lee Erwin.  So I looked up the words-and-music info and provided it below.

RCA's Living Stereo sounds good here, despite some minor disc wear,




LINK:  Joe Emerson's Hymntime (RCA Victor LSP-2190; 1960)





Closer Still (Beattie-Gabriel)
'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus (Stead-Kirkpatrick)
On Jordan's Stormy Banks (Stennett-Durham)
My Jesus, I Love Thee (Featherston-Gordon)
Under His Wings (Cushing-Sankey)
You Go to Your Church, and I'll Go to Mine (Phillips H. Lord)
Near the Cross (Crosby-Bradbury)
Shall We Gather at the River (Lowry)
(When They All) Get Together with the Lord (Moe Jaffe-Bickley Reichner)
Lead Me Savior (Frank M. Davis)
Let Him In (Atchinson-Excell)
Higher Ground (Oatman, Jr.-Gabriel)


Lee

Less Common Burt, Part 1: 1952-1968

By request, some (actually, a lot of) less common Burt Bacharach recordings.  I almost typed "Bacharach numbers," but a small number of these are, in fact, little-heard versions of well-known titles.  Familiar titles, renditions you likely never heard.  I'm the man for that kind of thing, if I don't say so myself, he said.

I've included (toward the end of the list) what is, to the best of my knowledge, the first recording of a Burt song--Once in a Blue Moon, as expertly performed on piano by the brilliant Nat "King" Cole in 1952.  I ripped it from my scratched up copy of Cole's Penthouse Serenade EP, and VinylStudio did an extraordinarily good job on the surface noise--I only had to manually remove two or three pops on MAGIX.  VinylStudio is an amazing program whose makers should really consider fixing up--its bugs are a total pain, and an export problem I alerted them to a year ago remains unfixed.  What's up with that?  (Expression of annoyance.)  Oh, if Blue Moon sounds familiar, it's because it's from Rubinstein's Melody in F.

These numbers date from both before and during Burt's household-name period.  It's actually difficult to say exactly when that period started, because Burt and Hal's hugely successful Magic Moments dates all the way back to 1957 (and, therefore, me).  But it wasn't until about 1965 that he started his quick climb to super-stardom as a songwriter in the U.S., though the Brits were already nuts about him--hence, all the Burt tracks recorded by Invasion groups like the Beatles, Manfred Mann, and the Searchers.  And I should note these tracks are all from vinyl in my collection, ripped by me--no CD steals.  My quest for early Burt material started around 2000, a time when much of my thrifting was devoted to finding "wrong" versions of Beatles songs--Burt numbers were popping up along with them on LPs by Engelbert Humperdinck and Petula Clark, and Bacharach titles were showing up in various-artist boxes in a big flea market I visited weekly.  I loved what I was hearing, and I'd already had a group of favorite Burts from back in the day, so I had to find more of these, and I did.  I was completely unaware that I was operating slightly ahead of a trend, so I was slightly stunned, in the midst of my Burt-digging, to find an early-Burt discography on line.  I was thrilled and, to a degree, miffed that this information was easily available, because it took the sport out of my hunting.  But so it goes sometimes.  It took none of the fun out of the music.

About three or four years into this blog, I received a request from a Burt associate for a CD of early titles--for Burt himself!  I gladly ripped one, and I got a lot of cool promo CD sets in return.  Because my memory sucks, I can't tell you the year, but I started this blog in 2005, so it had to be circa 2008.

In terms of song quality, these titles run the gamut from why-didn't-it-become-a-hit? to oh-my-God.  In the former category, there's the magnificent That Kind of Woman, taken from the single (to fulfill David Federman's request), Saturday Sunshine (catchy song, great production), Moon Man (beautifully performed, and a lot more sophisticated than the title suggests), Come and Get Me (a minor chart hit but a great tune, and one of the Burt finds that convinced me to go Burt-crazy), Waiting for Charlie to Come Home (originally recorded by Etta James in 1962), Loving Is a Way of Loiving, and Blue Guitar (yes, it's Richard Chamberlain, and it's a bit corny, but it has that Burt brilliance).  (Oops.  Blue Guitar is in the next playlist. Sorry!) The clunkers hit the deck with the force of a falling bookcase, and for worst-of honors. I'm torn between Take Me to Your Ladder and Joanie's Forever, both of which happen to occur on the same single.  Ladder is coming next post, but we get to endure Joanie this time around.  Keep in mind that the same lyricist, Bob Hilliard, gave us I'm Late (from Alice in Wonderland, and recently featured here in its wonderful Alan Dale version) and Any Day Now, which is to say that he was a gifted person, and only human.  (Maybe he was half asleep here, with the deadline looming.)  Actual lyrics from Joanie's Forever: "My Joanie's forever was less than a week.  She loved me on Friday; by Monday, we didn't even speak."  Joanie's "forever."  Get it?  And the flip is, believe it or don't, far worse.

Other duds: Sad Sack sucks, and not just because Jerry Lewis is singing it, but that doesn't help.  And This Is Mine isn't bad, but Connie Stevens' pitch-straying nearly wrecks it.  Someone Else's Sweetheart is pretty throwaway as a tune, and it's sunk by the over the top production.  I guess we got off fairly easy, this time around, on the really bad sides.

And there are the numbers that rate as perfectly okay--the cute Perry Como single You're Following Me, Alan Dale's I Cry More, which I find simultaneously catchy and annoying, The Morning Mail (which misses its mark but doesn't bomb), and the very clever but too derivative Keep Me in Mind.  Keep Me in Mind is the kind of number that has the critic expecting bigger and better (and more original) things from its writers.  And, in the case of Burt and Hal, that expectation would be majorly rewarded.

Rosemary Clooney's version of One Less Bell to Answer had some chart success, though of course the Fifth Dimension's version two years later was a monster hit.  (I will refrain from using the "hit the right buttons" cliche.)  I remember the latter disc being played almost nonstop on AM radio.  Great song, and Clooney is good, though her voice isn't all there.  This was close to the time of her breakdown, I believe.  I have issues with Let Your Love Come Through, despite my love for the song and Shani Wallis' absurdly over-arranged version.  It's one of my favorite Burt singles, but Burt had to have had Day Tripper playing in the back of his head when he wrote the melody--it's just too close to be a coincidence.  Granted, Burt does tricky things with rhythm throughout the song--that's part of its appeal--and Day Tripper is straight 4/4, but the main hook is still way too close to John Lennon's.  A good argument in Burt's defense, besides the fact that unconscious swipes happen all the time (the brain forgets where it heard a given phrase), is that the riff in question is little more than a a V7 arpeggio.  Personally, I never say "plagiarism" (in this case, accidental, I'm sure) over a single phrase--the similarities have to continue throughout the song, as in My Sweet Lord, for instance.

Anyway, 24 less common tracks by an uncommonly talented songwriter:




LINK: Less Common Burt, 1952-1968






All with lyrics by Hal David, except where noted

That Kind of Woman--Joe Williams, Orch. cond. by Jimmy Jones (Roulette 4185; 1959)
The Morning Mail--The Gallahads w. Billy Mure's Orch., 1956
I Cry More--Alan Dale w. Orch. and Cho. Dir. by Dick Jacobs, 1956
And This Is Mine--Connie Stevens w. Neal Hefti Orch., 1961
Sad Sack--Jerry Lewis w. Chorus and Orch. Dir. Sonny Burke, 1957
You're Telling Our Secrets--Dee Clark, 1961
One Less Bell to Answer--Rosemary Clooney, Arr. and Cond. by Shorty Rogers, 1968
Saturday Sunshine--Johnny Mathis, Arr. and Cond. by Tony Osborne, 1967
Hot Spell (Burt Bacharach-Mack David)--Ernie Felice w. Dennis Farnon Orch. and Cho., 1958
My Heart Is a Ball of String--The Rangoons, 1961
Keep Me in Mind--Patti Page w. Jack Rael and his Orch., 1955
Moon Man--Gloria Lambert, Orch. Cond. by Richard Maltby, 1959
Come and Get Me--Jackie deShannon, Arr. and Cond. by Burt Bacharch, 1966
Waiting for Charlie to Come Home (Bacharach-Hilliard)--Marlena Shaw, 1967
Cryin', Sobbin', Wailin' (Bacharach-Jonas)--Dane Hunter, Acc. by Les Reed, 1965
Loving Is a Way of Living--Steve Lawrence, Arr. and Cond. by Don Costa, 1959
Out of My Continental Mind (Bacharach-Shaw)--Lena Horne w. Anthony Morelli and his Sands Hotel Orch., 1961
Moon Guitar--The 50 Guitars of Tommy Garrett, 1966
Somebody Else's Sweetheart--The Wanderers, Arr. and Cond. by Teacho Wiltshire, 1961
Once in a Blue Moon (Burt Bacharach; based on Rubenstein's Melody in F)--Nat "King" Cole, Piano, 1952
You're Following Me (Bacharach-Hilliard)--Perry Como w. Ray Charles Singers, Mitch Ayres Orch., 1961
Liberty Valance--No artist credited (Top Tunes 2-33)
Let Your Love Come Through--Shani Wallis, Arr. and Cond. by David Whitaker, 1967
Joanie's Forever (Bacharach-Hilliard)--Buddy Clinton, 1960

Lee