Tracks: 1) My One Desire; 2) That Warm Summer Night; 3) Break My Chain; 4) Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans; 5) I’ll Make Believe; 6) Travelin’ Man; 7) Oh Yeah, I’m In Love; 8) Everybody But Me; 9) Lucky Star; 10) Sure Fire Bet; 11) Stars Fell On Alabama; 12) Hello Mary Lou; 13*) You Are The Only One; 14*) Milk Cow Blues; 15*) Everlovin’; 16*) A Wonder Like You.
REVIEW
With an album title like that, I sort of expected the opening track on the record to be a spirited cover of ‘Drinkin’ Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee’ — or, if you insist on Father Ozzie choosing your selections from the pre-war era, at the least, ‘Gimme A Pigfoot And A Bottle Of Beer’. After all, age ain’t nothing but a threshold past which you need no longer bother about fake IDs, and given that the adult Ricky would be no stranger to the temptations of karma-altering substances, you might hypothetically have suggested that there’d be some stylistic border between an LP called Rick Is 21 and all those other LPs like Ricky Is 17, Ricky Nelson’s 18th Birthday Party, The 19-Year Old Ricky Sings Again, and More Songs By Ricky Who’s Just Turned 20 But Betcha Didn’t Even Notice.
You’d be dead wrong, though. Just as there is hardly any difference between Ricky’s, uh, sorry, Rick’s good looks on the front cover and all his previous photos, so is there hardly any musical sign on here that the boy is no longer a boy, but a man, spelled M-A-N, no B-O-Y child. «Wait a minute», you’ll say, «but there’s ‘Travelin’ Man’ on here! Surely a song like ‘Travelin’ Man’ is all toxic macho testosterone material, the kind of tune he’d be too shy to sing even a couple of years earlier?» Indeed, these days, in our age of heightened sensitivity, no positive account of ‘Travelin’ Man’ that you encounter anywhere in cyberspace can pass without at least a little bit of apology for the «cringey» lyrics. Yet there are nuances.
‘Travelin’ Man’, written by the as yet largely unknown Texan songwriter Jerry Fuller, was originally offered to Sam Cooke — and, for some reason, downvoted, even though I can easily imagine Sam singing the song, which would have fit neatly into the concept of some of his glitzier albums like Cooke’s Tour. Instead, it was passed down to Ricky, almost by accident, and although he allegedly loved Fuller’s demo, I can hardly believe that he didn’t have a bit of a hard time putting himself into the shoes of a jaded polyamorous sailor who has, in every port, owned the heart of at least (at least!!!) one lovely girl. Actually, I don’t know what I’m talking about, because Ricky Nelson does not really put himself into the shoes of anyone: he is, and has always been, Ricky Nelson.
And that, by the way, is the saving grace of ‘Travelin’ Man’ as performed by Ricky Nelson. Yes, Fuller’s lyrics are tacky — not so much for the concept, really, which is in itself a time-honored sailor’s trope, but rather for the sheer amount of tired «exotic clichés» (‘pretty Señorita waiting for me’, ‘my sweet Fraulein’, ‘my China doll’, etc.) that would make Tin Pan Alley stalwarts like Cole Porter throw up in disgust at the rapid decline of poetic craft in popular music. And if the song were sung by, say, the likes of Tom Jones, or even Elvis — «real men» with lotsa hair on their chests and everything — that tackiness would be multiplied to scary dimensions. Nelson, however, delivers the words in his usual style: soft, tender, melancholic, and without a shred of annoying braggadocio. In his performance, the protagonist is no modern day Casanova — this here is more of an ‘Everybody’s Trying To Be My Baby’ vibe, except that the Perkins song portrayed a flamboyant rock star, besieged by obsessed girl admirers: the Nelson-sung ‘Travelin’ Man’ would have ladies all over the world flinging themselves at «travelin’ man Ricky» for his shyness, politeness, and courteousness instead. None of that is in the lyrics, of course; it is all in the voice, which oozes respect and admiration for every one of his «conquests».
What really makes the song into a mini-pop masterpiece, though, and is quite likely responsible for a good number of additional sales, is its musical arrangement — and, above everything else, that mesmerizing bassline played by Joe Osborn (who, by the way, was the one to bring the song to Ricky’s attention). The little rise-and-fall, fall-and-rise melody here is roughly the same as on Arthur Alexander’s ‘Anna (Go With Him)’, which we usually know from the Beatles’ Please Please Me cover, evoking a world-weary feel from someone who’s accepted that life shall never again be the way it was meant to be in one’s naïve, idealistic past — and thus, the bass foundation helps reinforce the tragic feeling of all those ladies waiting for Ricky back in Mexico and Hong Kong, a tragedy both for them and the protagonist, whose fatal wanderlust prevents him from ever settling down with one of them. Thus it is a thematic prequel for the Allmans’ "when it’s time for leavin’, I hope you’ll understand that I was born a ramblin’ man", but in between Dickey and Ricky, Dickey is the one here who sounds more like a dick (duh), and Ricky the one who sounds like... well, like somebody whom I’d be more likely willing to want to «understand» rather than simply condemn off the bat.
A funny, but sharp assessment of the ‘Travelin’ Man’ / ‘Hello Mary Lou’ single on RateYourMusic notes that the B-side is "I’m not one that gets around", while the A-side is "Sex tourist anthem". Ironically, though, it is the fast tempo and slightly comical country jerkiness of ‘Hello Mary Lou’ that make it feel more like an improvised passion fling on the part of the protagonist, while ‘Travelin’ Man’ actually ends up feeling more sincere and «gentlemanly» in spirit. The bottomline here is that ‘Hello Mary Lou’ is just a feel-good piece of country-pop: the original version by Johnny Duncan, released less than a year prior to Ricky’s, or later versions (for instance, the CCR cover on Mardi Gras), though formally different in terms of arrangements, all share more or less the same merry spirit, and you can’t do much of anything about it. Rick’s performance is okay, I guess, but he tries to invoke the feeling of ecstasy, and it comes nowhere near as naturally to him as the feeling of world-weariness and melancholy.
Even a quick check on the SecondHandSongs resource shows that there have been more than 150 different covers of ‘Hello Mary Lou’, including some pretty big names — yet less than 50 for ‘Travelin’ Man’, mostly by various obscure (at least for non-country fans like myself) country artists. Perhaps it was the lyrics that drove people away, but in the end it is no simple coincidence that ‘Travelin’ Man’ seems as if it could only work if sung by the likes of Nelson (maybe Nick Drake or Elliott Smith could have given it a go?), while ‘Hello Mary Lou’ could have been belted out by anybody from Robert Plant to Freddie Mercury, had they ever wanted to. Actually, both of them did.
It’s a little odd, though, that two of Ricky’s best-remembered hits ended up on two sides of the same single, in light of the fact that the chronologically adjacent singles on both sides aren’t too hot. ‘You Are The Only One’, from the hands of the trustworthy Baker Knight, was released in November 1960 and only made it to #25 — a rather tepid rhythmic ballad exploiting Ricky’s «paranoid lover» image (the hookline throughout is what’ll I do if you leave me?, to which all of us insecure men desperately needing their partners as anchors can relate), but without any strong musical ideas to back it up. Curiously, the B-side was a cover of Elvis’ rendition of ‘Milk Cow Blues’ — I don’t know why, maybe James Burton wanted to play some tough rock’n’roll for a change, but this is not Nelson-ready material, really.
Then, several months after ‘Travelin’ Man’, the Nelson team decided to make lightning strike twice and commissionned yet another «travelog» from Jerry Fuller — ‘A Wonder Like You’. With the momentum still going strong, the record shot up the charts but still ended up stalling at #11 — and, once again, I can hardly blame the instincts of the people. Formally, it seems to follow the same formula: a similar tempo, the exact same tinkling piano rolls, and lyrics that exploit the same subject yet are far more wholesome and family-friendly. This time, our hero is no longer falling for the charms of all the places he is visiting or all the different types of girls he is encountering: "I’ve seen the pretty dancing girls of Siam / The happy Polynesian people, too / But they’re not as happy as I am / ’Cause they haven’t got a wonder like you" (and note the beauty of the rhyming — "Siam" and "as I am"! Finally, Cole Porter would be proud).
The problem is, ‘A Wonder Like You’ is a bland, diet version of ‘Travelin’ Man’. Do spare a few minutes of your time and play them back to back, just to imprint in your mind the difference between «musical depth» and «musical shallowness». The follow-up single is a bundle of simplistic sentimentality, delivering its trivial message with no subtext whatsoever; ‘Travelin’ Man’, in comparison, feels like a Shakesperian tragedy. Even if you dislike the song, you cannot deny that it lends itself to all sorts of different interpretations, and that your feelings for its protagonist can range from sympathy and devotion to pity and hatred, depending on where your mind takes you. The protagonist — and the emotional content of — ‘A Wonder Like You’ — is just a puddle of warm milk. Even the B-side, ‘Everlovin’, a Buddy Holly-esque pop rocker originally recorded by The Crescents, an Australian vocal trio that supported Ricky on his tour of the continent, is preferable, due to the lack of any artificial sentimentality.
Neither of these two singles made it onto Ricky 21 (well, ‘A Wonder Like You’ was recorded already after the album), but both ‘Travelin’ Man’ and ‘Hello Mary Lou’ did, and, naturally, they overshadow most of the other selections — even if the team did manage to get both Jerry Fuller, the author of the former, and Gene Pitney, of the latter, to contribute several other numbers to complete the LP. Of Fuller’s two additional numbers, ‘Break My Chain’ is the faster, more energetic and more memorable one, but what strikes me most about the song is that Bob Dylan actually took it as the basis for his own ‘On A Night Like This’ fourteen years later — although the general pop structure of the verse doesn’t look terribly original, for some reason, it is the Dylan song that springs to my mind most immediately. ‘That Warm Summer Night’ is a rather non-descript romantic ballad, though it still has more soul to it than ‘A Wonder Like You’. Meanwhile, Pitney’s ‘Sure Fire Bet’ is ‘Hello Mary Lou’ all over again, only with a little less verve. The future of these little pop ditties often depends on the subtlest detail. "Hello Mary Lou, goodbye heart" delivered the goods; "you’re a sure fire bet to win my lips" sorta didn’t.
The other lightweight pop-rock contributions made by big names such as Dorsey Burnette (‘My One Desire’), Johnny Rivers (‘I’ll Make Believe’) and Dave Burgess (‘Everybody But Me’) are all nice, but, well, lightweight — nothing in particular tickles the ear in any unusual manner. To round out the record, Ricky falls back on old standards: ‘Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans’ is a waste of time because I’m not at all sure that Ricky really knows what it means to miss New Orleans, but for ‘Stars Fell On Alabama’, he is somehow able to put on his ‘Lonesome Town’ «cloak of intangibility» and remind us all once again of that mystical aura of icy emotion he could so effortlessly exude on his earliest recordings. I’m not a fan of this style at all, but I’m pretty sure ‘Alabama’ is his best vocal performance here after ‘Travelin’ Man’.
Even so, there is no question that Rick Is 21 is only going to live on in history as a repository for the biggest single of Nelson’s entire career. Perhaps therein lies the symbolism — look at how the world is ready to greet an adult Rick Nelson with open arms, sending him back to the top of the charts and everything. If so, the irony is cruel in retrospect, seeing as how the poor guy only had, at best, a couple years of limited fame and fortune in front of him before the British Invasion and new musical standards would forever brand him as a has-been teen idol... but let us not jump too far ahead: for now, we are still in 1961, and as of now, Rick Nelson, Travelin’ Man Number One, is on top of the world.
Only Solitaire reviews: Ricky Nelson
"And if the song (Travellin' Man) were sung by, say, the likes of Tom Jones, or even Elvis — «real men» with lotsa hair on their chests and everything — that tackiness would be multiplied to scary dimensions." Hahahaha 2 thumbs up.
About 'Milk Cow Blues' - unless I'm missing something this is the version the 1965 Kinks' cover is based on, rather than on Elvis directly, and from there Aerosmith.
Ricky (and Kinks) skips the "well I woke up this morning" start, which might have felt archaic and too bluesy/rural, it skips the whole "woman as milk cow" metaphor entirely other than the title, where Elvis was still singing about butter, how the cow lowed and prayer books.
Elvis' song is much better, but an interesting tidbit I thought.