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(Limited Addition, 2002)
When “Walking With Thee” came out in 2002, I got the darn fool idea into my head that it was going to break Clinic bigtime in the U.S., launching them to semi-mainstream success on the radio and album charts. That didn’t quite happen, but the song still sounds like a HIT to me, with that menacing, crackling organ riff (even better than “Walking On the Sun”!); eerie, strained vocal; and crisp drumming. It’s easily-digested, indie-informed garage psych, an oddball offering that’s nevertheless readymade for mass consumption. A bona-fide “Nugget” for the new millennium, I have no idea why it wasn’t bigger at the time. The B-side, “D.T.,” is recycled from Clinic’s 1998 “Monkey On Your Back” EP, and shows the band’s raw, Neu-inspired krautpunk side. Good propulsive stuff with frantic guitar thrash over robotic drumming; it’s too bad they didn’t pursue this avenue much further on later records (and despite the rather spot-on accusation that every album sounds the same, I still think the rough-n-ready self-titled EP collection on Domino is easily the best Clinic full-length…the even bloodier “Operating at a Theatre Near You” live EP – a rare one – comes in second place).
This 7” initially came packaged with an issue of Stop Smiling magazine, but is now available through the Limited Addition site for all you Clinic completists out there. Assuming that that population actually exists. Does it?? Regardless, everyone else can be happy with the eventual best-of, which will surely be a toe-tapper, a head-nodder, and a grin-causer. Mark my words: a decade from now, we’ll be sorry we didn’t appreciate Clinic when the dudes existed…
(Columbia, 1968)
Like “Tabatha Twitchit,” “The Red Balloon” is a brassy, semi-psychedelic pop song that doesn’t paint a very convincing picture of the Dave Clark Five as trippy funsters, but it’s both catchy and innocent enough to earn at least tepid praise from these quarters. Clark himself takes the lead vocals on this one, and its colorful, rootin’-tootin’, singalong cheeriness will likely either charm your pants off or annoy you to no end. Fans of, say, “Yellow Submarine” oughta dig it, which I hope paints a picture of what kinda goofy fun we’re dealing with here. Now, I don’t mind “The Red Balloon” too much, but I personally prefer the comparatively gritty psych authenticity of John Fred & His Playboy Band when I’m looking to have my mind blown by some boss sounds. OR… WAIT! I can just flip this single over and listen to the shockingly fiery Creation-lite rocker “Maze of Love”! One of their rawest and best guitar songs! Wow! It’s tragically obscure, though, as it never even came out on an American album.
Which leads us to a big ol’ problem.
Thing is, the DC5 catalog was a total mess by this point. Epic had stopped releasing studio albums in the States after Everybody Knows, whereas Europe kept cranking ’em out, with collections like 5 by 5 (NOT the same record as the America LP with the same title), the dire If Somebody Loves You, and the ultra-elusive Dave Clark and Friends. There are a few cheap import compilation LPs that round up some of the better songs from this period (notably Historia de la Musica Rock and Gigantes del Pop), but it is exceedingly difficult to acquire everything the band did after 1967. To make matters even more frustrating for the present-day fan, our buddy Dave, renowned biznass man that he is, continues to delude himself as to the cash value of his group’s recordings, and so we still haven’t seen ANY of the DC5 albums committed to CD as of 2008 (word has it that he has held out for a price that he just ain’t gonna get from any label). My hope was that there’d be a catalog clean-up and comprehensive reissue campaign after “Jann” Wenner let the band into his sham Hall of Fame earlier this year, but despite some rumor-mill rumblings and a so-so iTunes collection, the record-store shelves remain unburdened by DC5 CDs. Mebbe Davey’s waiting for more group members to die off? Or perhaps he thinks it’s smart to let old age swallow up a nice chunk of his original fanbase before he allows official reissues to come out? What is he thinking at this point? Does he even CARE about his group’s legacy?? Besides losing money for himself and his pals, he’s effectively consigning his band to obscurity by letting the bulk of its catalog remain out of print and largely unavailable for decades. Honestly, the guy just needs to get it together and PUT THE MUSIC OUT THERE AGAIN. Until that in fact happens, I absolutely encourage you – yes, you! — to poke around and buy or download the nifty, carefully-assembled “Complete Collection” bootlegs, because these records, all the way back to Glad All Over, deserve better, deserve to actually be heard. And if that has to be done illegally, so be it.
(Polydor, 1977)
Another version of the “Everybody Knows” single, which, for some bizarre reason, Polydor in Germany felt the need to reissue in the late ’70s. But there is at least some value here, as the B-side, “Always Me,” isn’t on any American Dave Clark Five LP. The song isn’t terribly different from “Everybody Knows,” with those strings and choir-of-angels backing vocals, and despite the 1977 copyright date it’s apparent that this Clark/Smith composition also comes from the tail-end of the ’60s. Rarity or not, however, it’s hard to get charged up rather than depressed about further lifeless, flabby balladry. The DC5 is clearly limping its way the end of the creative road with this garbage.
(Columbia, 1967)
Why yes, I do own a French copy of “Everybody Knows,” thanks for asking! Same old syrupy dreck on the A-side, but our Gallic friends get the pleasure of experiencing “Tabatha Twitchit” on the flip. It’s a mildly psychedelic attempt at whimsy, an idiosyncratic child’s-eye character sketch of an old lady that’s powered by jaunty horns and the sort of nursery-rhyme melody common to the era’s pop-oriented lysergic-come-latelies. A charming oddity, nothing more. Notable, though, in that neither song is instantly recognizable as the Dave Clark Five, so have fun confounding your friends with this one.
(Columbia, 1967)
You might think it’s silly and confusing to issue two different singles called “Everybody Knows” over the course of your career, but Dr. David Clark and his merry foursome happens to disagree. And so we have the release of “Everybody Knows (We’re Through)” a mere three years after “Everybody Knows (I Still Love You)”. While the songs actually have little in common beyond their titles, I do appreciate the false sense of sequel that the parentheticals lend the proceedings… of course, if one really wants to, it can be imagined that the slow, sappy defeatism of the later song is the sound of the lovelorn narrator of the upbeat original, now older and wiser, simply giving up. It’s a treacly bit of heavily-orchestrated melodrama that prefigures fat Elvis, minus the cheap button-pushing dynamism that makes Presley’s bloated hits guilty pleasures. A failure. Things do go better on the B-side, as the thumping garage soul of “Concentration Baby” – with an urgent keyboard part that’s awfully reminiscent of “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” – plays well to the Dave Clark Five’s strengths as an energetic rock ’n’ roll band and shows that the group was making at least tentative steps towards changing with the times. [This is the Danish version of the single; in America, “Inside and Out” appeared as the B.]
(Epic, 1967)
It’s interesting (to me) to note that while many other major groups – the Beatles, Kinks, Rolling Stones, various bubblegum popsters – backed off from their r&b influences in ’66/’67 to explore a self-conscious “Britishness,” the Dave Clark Five delved deeper into a range of American forms – blues, soul, and country/western – on albums like Satisfied With You and the downright weird ’n’ wonderful You Got What it Takes. The crazy-quilt stylistic hodgepodge of the discs the band released during this period suggests that it was more about shooting blindly in all directions for hits than executing any grand artistic masterplan, but there’s plenty to enjoy from this eccentric phase in Clark & co.’s career. The “You Got What it Takes” single is a fine example of such curiosities. Trying out something new, Mike Smith’s hammy, barking vocal is backed by an army of bright horns on this clunky, chunky hunk of white soulpop; the end result is more proto-Blues Brothers than DC5, but it was goofily appealing enough to give the group its last U.S. top ten. “Doctor Rhythm” is another of those “why didn’t they release this three years ago” songs, a streamlined r&b frathouse dancer that rides a great bassline as sax growls underneath. Satisfying, if incongruous. While neither track approaches trainwreck status (“Doctor Rhythm” would even fit nicely on a compilation of early hits), there are certainly a lot of embarrassing and baffling misfires on the surrounding late-era records as the Dave Clark Five tries to find its niche amid marketplace upheaval. Nevertheless, it’s always fun and surprising to hear them stretch out and switch from style to style on these unpredictable discs, and the additional effort it takes to find dusty copies of the LPs and singles from the immediate post-hitmaking period is effort well spent, I’d say.
(Epic, 1966)
I’d like to get personal for a moment and let everyone out there know that I’m in love. Truly in love.
With baby food!
Yes, that delightful mush has become a major dietary staple over the last few weeks, and my tastebuds and tummy couldn’t be happier. Whether it’s a single jar for a light breakfast or a midday snack, or a three-jar mix-n-match for a full meal, baby food keeps me going full-speed through my rat-race days and my rock ’n’ roll nights. My favorite flavor so far is Turkey Tetrazzini, though the zesty Ginger Chicken & Veggies is not without its merits. Want something a little more exotic? Try the Carne Asada, which is part of Gerber’s “Recetas Latinas” line. Spicy stuff; you Latin babies really know how to party! The biggest disappointment has surely been the bland Beef Vegetable, but as far as I’m concerned even a great company like Gerber is allowed to swing and miss every once in a while. As long as the overall quality level remains as sky-high as I’ve found it to be, I’ll continue to shell out the big bucks for those tiny jars. Keep up the good work, folks!
So what does all of this have to do with the Dave Clark Five’s “Try Too Hard” / “All Night Long” single? More than you might think. In an industry first, the DC5 sold this 7” as a delicious brownish paste pureed to a consistency that even the littlest mouths could handle when fed by… Hang on. Let me start over.
“Try Too Hard” is yet another pumping, wall-of-beat classic from our five heroes, and while the band’s simply sticking to the formula that made all of its rockers so satisfying going back to ’64, heck, things ain’t broke so there’s no need to fix ’em. Not much to say about this one, just another winner in a string of distinctive, “DC5-sounding” hits. Best of all, though, we get two fast ones this time around, as “All Night Long” is a frenzied beat-group freakout whose only vocals are screams and wordless oh-oh-ohs – a real hot number! Both songs get my official Don’t Hesitate To Play These At Your Next Party (DHTPTAYNP) seal of approval, so don’t hesitate to play these at your next party. Free advice, that. Now get outta here, you knuckleheads!
(Limited Addition, 2002)
