“Baby” Week, Part 2

When I think of Andy Kim’s version of “Baby, I Love You,” my mind pairs it instantly with his next Top 20 hit, “Be My Baby” (Steed 729). This pairing rivals the connection I make between Donnie Elbert’s back-to-back Motown covers from 1971-72. In Andy’s case, there was a minor hit between the two pillars of his Steed period.

I don’t think I link them because of the Ronettes connection. I don’t think it’s the “baby-baby” thing. It could well be that it’s because, like next week’s tunes, they are two songs by the same artist that bracket my mother’s death. One brought me joy before her passing, and one brought me comfort after it.

These two songs are joined so tightly in my mind that I made the biggest (known) factual error of my blogging year (so far) when I wrote about “Baby, I Love You.” Perhaps everyone else connects these two songs the way I do, because no one called me on the obvious, huge mistake. Or were you all too polite to step on my toes? I do hope not!

I said that “Baby, I Love You” by the Ronettes peaked at #2. Their #2 hit was “Be My Baby.” They took “Baby, I Love You” to #24 four months later. In essence, the success of the Ronettes’ versions and Andy Kim’s versions was reversed. And if I don’t stay focused, my success will be reversed. Sorry.

My experiences with the two Andy Kim hits were similar: amazement at the production, delight at the voice, love of the melody and the message. They had “Jeff Barry” written all over them, though it wasn’t until the spate of 1970 hits came along that I knew Jeff Barry was responsible for all this music. I knew what I was getting by the time of “Be My Baby,” which entered the Top 40 on November 28, 1970 and peaked at #17. Even so, I didn’t know what I was getting.

Christmas, 1970 was pretty bleak. No mother, a new babysitter who was starting to change how things ran for my family (often for the better, but not always), few prospects for presents. It sounds shallow when I say that, but one thing I always associated with my mom was imaginative and unexpected gifts. That era was done.

But I had the radio. My babysitter, a woman a few years younger than my father who would become my stepmother in a couple of years, loved pop music as much as I did, and the stereo in her living room was always tuned to WLS. I picture that console, and the wall behind it, and the avocado sculptured carpet beneath it, when I hear “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?,” “That’s Where I Went Wrong” and “Be My Baby.”

The difference among these songs is that “Be My Baby” got me to run to the stereo, turn it up if I was there alone, and press my ear to the speaker. As is surely the case with most of you, there are songs that reduce me to nothing but an ear-brain connection, one big auditory nerve. One of my hundred or so such songs is “Be My Baby” by Andy Kim.

The song’s production is a cousin of “Baby, I Love You,” from the big boom at the beginning to the energetic piano and the amazing bass line. The interwoven vocals in the chorus are what got me, and when everyone comes in on “Be my baby now,” I usually fall over.

But why this version, more than the Ronettes’ #2 hit? (Ha! Got it this time!)

By shifting the chord at the end of the second phrase of the chorus (“Be my little baby”) from the root of the relative minor to the major fourth (F minor to C# major in this case), Jeff and Andy made the chorus sound much happier to me. Around Christmas, 1970, I needed a happy song. Between Susan Jacks singing about being on a cold bus and some other dude moaning about raindrops falling on people’s heads (they were still playing that one), a lot of the radio music wasn’t helpful. Andy got me over the hump, even though the song didn’t get as much airplay as I would have liked.

It often happens that I have a jukebox story to attach to my 45s. In this case, I went roller skating sometime in early 1971, with a group that certainly was not my family. I took a break to get a drink, and I spied a jukebox. I had a dime for a song, so I was perusing my options when a luscious 16-year-old appeared over my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Play that one, okay?”

She was pointing to “Be My Baby.” I gladly agreed, as it was the song I was after. Her friend, who must have known what a manipulative minx she was, called over to me not to listen to her; that I could play whatever I wanted. I replied that I was happy with that choice, and so I played “Be My Baby” for an older woman I never saw again. Then I went back to skating.

On this cut, the band is back, as the musicians seem not to have disappointed Jeff this time around. The interesting suggestion has been made that Jeff sped up some of Andy’s recordings, which put them into an uncomfortable key for live performances. I doodled with “Be My Baby,” and if you lower the pitch by a semitone, Andy’s voice sounds like the Andy of “Rock Me Gently.” Further evidence is that “Be My Baby” reached us in the key of G sharp, whereas G is a much easier key for recording. If you drop the pitch of “Baby, I Love You,” Andy sounds sluggish. Thus, I can believe Jeff sped up “Be My Baby,” but not “Baby, I Love You.” At least he sped it up exactly one half-step; it would be terrible if the song were out of tune to everyone’s guitar or piano. (I am including the slowed version below.)

I don’t know if this song would have even more resonance if it had arrived during the early caithiseach days, but it certainly filled a void in my soul at a time I needed one filled. The two Andy Kim songs I featured this week also serve as bookends to a huge helping of musical comfort food that helped me weather January, 1970; that song will get its due on Wednesday, at which point I’ll be a year older. See you then!

Andy Kim, Be My Baby original pitch

Andy Kim, Be My Baby lower pitch

"Baby" Week, Part 1

I conceived this blog as a place to bring attention to the oddest and least-selling 45s you might ever hear. Last week, the Bob Keefe songs fit that mission perfectly. I have decided at times to feature very successful singles and artists, though, when the song or the singer played a large part in the musical milieu of my 45-spinning years.

I’m going back to some pretty big hits this week and next. I have a personal connection to each song, but I have also managed to get authoritative back stories for all four tunes, so I’ll share some of that. Parts of the stories deserve to be developed in a larger forum, and I’ll let you know when said forum comes into being.

This story starts for me with a song, but it starts for the singer with a dream and the determination to follow through on his goals. In early 1968, a fifteen-year-old boy caught a train from Montreal to Manhattan with the intention of meeting his songwriting hero. He made his way to 1650 Broadway, and with some persistence he managed to meet his icon.

The boy was Androwis Jovakim. The songwriter was Joel Adelberg. What followed their meeting was the fruitful songwriting/production collaboration that led to a successful solo career for Andy Kim and an RIAA Record of the Year in 1969 for Jeff Barry and Andy Kim.

By the time Andy Kim came into my world, he and Jeff had been working together for a year, and Andy had two Top 40 hits under his belt. His third Top 40 hit and first Top Ten smash was “Baby, I Love You” (Steed 716). The Ronettes’ #2 version was just six years old when he took the song to #9 in the fall of 1969. The decision to have Andy record the song, and the recording process itself, make for interesting reading.

At the time, Jeff Barry’s label, Steed Records, was a busy but not yet hit-laden enterprise. Jeff and Andy had already reached the Top 40 for Don Kirshner with their first Archies hit. Andy was in Jeff’s office, and Jeff stepped out for a moment.

Andy came across the sheet music for “Baby, I Love You,” which was a still-warm girl-group classic. Andy had never heard the song, and he started strumming his guitar to the chords on the sheet. Jeff came back and said, “That’s not how it goes.”

Jeff says that the idea of “cross-dressing” songs intrigues him, and Andy’s approach to “Baby, I Love You” merited consideration. Soon, they found themselves in the studio. They had assembled the usual group for the recording, but, perhaps because everyone knew the Phil Spector production of the song, it wasn’t coming out as Jeff and Andy heard it in their heads.

So they sent everyone home.

With nothing on tape, Jeff and Andy set to work. Jeff isn’t a drummer, so when he laid the drum tracks, it really was “tracks”: he played each drum individually. He played the bass drum by hand, crashed each cymbal on a separate track, everything. Andy played the guitars; Jeff played the keyboards. Once the backing track was in place, the singers could follow the plan. Among them was Ellie Greenwich, Jeff’s frequent songwriting partner and ex-wife. “Baby, I Love You” was one of their collaborations, with additional input from Phil Spector.

Spector collaborated with engineer Larry Levine to create the Wall of Sound that made Spector an icon. I learned a few minutes ago that Levine died on his 80th birthday, May 8. The Ronettes’ version of “Baby, I Love You” was selected for the U.S. Library of Congress National Recording Registry in 2006, which is about as high an honor as a recording can receive. Even so, a number of people call Andy Kim’s version of this song the definitive recording. I am reporting, not opining, but I have to admit a great fondness for Andy’s take on the song, thanks to my life circumstances in 1969.

When my mom was hospitalized and I went off to summer camp in July, 1969, Andy was rocketing toward his #9 peak. Thus, “Baby, I Love You” was in heavy rotation on the camp radios during the week of July 20-26. I knew the Ronettes’ recording, but this fresh, noble take on the tune had me swaying on my cot when we were sitting in our cabin, listening to WLS out of Chicago. Every song I associate with camp has a special place in my heart, but few top Andy’s hold on me at the 1969 version of Good Fellow Camp.

I didn’t go into Andy’s biography at the beginning of the post, because his legacy is well-known, and he remains a relevant performer. You will get bits of his history here this week and next. I do think I should direct you to his website and suggest you spend a bit of time seeing what he’s up to these days. Say hi to caithiseach on his forum, if you don’t mind.

Not all performers remember where they got their start, but Andy made it clear to me that he has not rewritten the history of how he got to where he is. He was effusive in his praise of Jeff Barry, and he has pointed out numerous ways in which Jeff made his career possible. Even so, we all know Jeff could not have orchestrated a career for Andy if there had not been a hard-working, talented performer waiting to be developed.

It would be hard for me to write a cold, objective piece about Andy Kim, because he is too close to the center of my musical universe and far too kind-spirited a human being for me to pretend that I could do so. Thus, I won’t even try to sort it out. Andy gave me music I love, especially Saturday’s upcoming 45. “Baby, I Love You,” which is right about now enjoying the 39th anniversary of its release as a single, prepared me for the sonic delight I’ll offer then.

For now, let me say that I’m glad Andy took the train to New York when he was 15, and that I am looking forward to Saturday’s story. See you then!

Andy Kim, Baby, I Love You