Review: The Hollies - Stay With The Hollies (1964)
Tracks: 1) Talkin’ ’Bout You; 2) Mr. Moonlight; 3) You Better Move On; 4) Lucille; 5) Baby Don’t Cry; 6) Memphis; 7) Stay; 8) Rockin’ Robin; 9) Watcha Gonna Do ’Bout It; 10) Do You Love Me; 11) It’s Only Make Believe; 12) What Kind Of Girl Are You; 13) Little Lover; 14) Candy Man; 15*) Ain’t That Just Like Me; 16*) Hey What’s Wrong With Me; 17*) Searchin’; 18*) Whole World Over; 19*) Now’s The Time; 20*) Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah; 21*) I Understand; 22*) Stay; 23*) Poison Ivy.
REVIEW
Most of the early British Invasion acts had a favorite role model or two from across the Atlantic before they’d start carving out their own identities — it was only a matter of how early in their career that carving-out process would start, especially relative to the defining moment when the band in question landed its first record contract and set foot in its first proper recording studio. From that point of view, the Hollies landed theirs a bit too early in the game (imagine for a second the Beatles getting theirs in, say, late 1960 rather than late 1962), and although, in retrospect, this does not sound like a huge problem, Stay With The Hollies set them off on the wrong foot in the LP business department — an inauspicious move whose consequences, it might be argued, would reverberate through the band’s entire career.
The role model in question was, as one might easily guess, the Everly Brothers — in fact, the Hollies pretty much started out intentionally as the UK’s answer to Phil and Don, with Allan Clarke and Graham Nash modeling themselves as a folk-rockish singing duo; and even if the band’s debut album does not include any of the Everlys’ songs as such, most of its material, even in terms of the diversity of the covered styles, is delivered very much in the Everlys’ style. Sound-wise, the Hollies played a polite, un-angry, family-friendly version of rock’n’roll that went rather light on electric guitars and heavy on two-part vocal harmonies. Like Phil and Don, they were not at all averse to taking lessons from Chuck Berry and Little Richard, but since Phil and Don always emphasized the melodic, rather than punkish, sides of these guys, the Hollies followed suit — their cover of Little Richard’s ʽLucilleʼ here, with close harmonies and drawn-out vowels, is almost 100% identical to the way the Everlys did it, and that’s the way it would always be.
That said, even without any original ideas and without any significant attempts to write their own songs, already at that earliest stage the Hollies had a major advantage of their own — a lead singer blessed with a voice every bit as distinctive as that of John Lennon, Mick Jagger, or Eric Burdon. As the record opens with a standard guitar introduction to Chuck Berry’s ʽTalkin’ ’Bout Youʼ, the very first line, "let me tell you ’bout a girl I know...", even though it is sung in harmony by Allan Clarke and Graham Nash (and maybe Tony Hicks as well?), totally belongs to Allan, as does almost everything else on this album. It is not a deep, rumbling tone of the Eric Burdon variety, or a sharp, guttural, devilish tone à la Mick Jagger — it is a high, ringing, and ever so slightly raspy tone that suggests inoffensiveness and friendliness, yet one that goes along with punchiness if necessary: it is, pitch- and timbre-wise, more or less in Phil and Don’s ballpark, but... how do I put this? Well, let’s just say that if it ever came to a fist fight between Phil or Don Everly and Allan Clarke, there is little doubt who would win, if the comparison were based purely on their vocal styles.
So ultimately, Allan’s vocal tone may be comparable to many others, yet it is a tone that stands out loud and proud in a sea of millions, and one that can’t help drawing your attention just because you instinctively feel something extreme about it. And I know that it is pretty damn hard to sound extreme in the middle of a soft-melodic vibe, yet in the end Clarke’s singing is that one element which makes words like «wimpy» or «sissy» inapplicable to the Hollies, while words like «kick-ass» seem surprisingly reasonable.
And there are few other generalizations one might make, really, about the 14 songs on this record — except that, in general, just like their American mentors, the Hollies show a good taste in covers, and with Allan regularly giving it his all, they succeed in producing sharp, energetic, and usually-far-from-superfluous versions of many of them. Not many people, for instance, could have competed with the exuberance of the Contours which permeates every second of ʽDo You Love Meʼ: Mike Smith of the Dave Clark Five sang the song as close to the black-voiced original as possible, and that may indeed have been superfluous, but Allan Clarke, adding a funny bit of gurgle to his razor-sharp voice, delivers it exactly as it should be delivered by a sneery, snotty, cocky, yet ultimately good-natured British teenager, coming up with the single best white boy cover of that song (at least until the much more maniacal cover of the Sonics one year later).
Another highlight is Roy Orbison’s ʽCandy Manʼ: this is a particularly happy choice, because Roy wrote a good handful of excellent rock’n’roll songs without, however, being much of a rock’n’roll singer — and this provides Clarke with a great chance to squeeze all of the tune’s implied sexuality out onto the surface. Is «cock-pop» even a term? If it is not, it should be invented specifically for this hilarious performance: musically cuddly, no match for even the Beatles, let alone the Stones, but vocally... oh boy, just lock up your daughters when Allan mouths "let me be... mmm, your own cande-e-e-e... candy ma-a-a-an". Maybe the UK press never saw that much of a threat in the Hollies (probably because they never had themselves an Andrew Loog Oldham to market their threat-ability), but it is hard to imagine how any UK parent, upon hearing such a song, could remain fooled by the band’s «clean look».
Admittedly, some of these covers work worse than others. Just as in the case of the Beatles, for instance, it is hard to understand the love all those bands had for ʽMr. Moonlightʼ (here spoiled even further by the unlucky choice of Nash as the lead vocalist — this does not seem to be the right kind of material for him at all, what with all the loud screeching required in the bridge section). Similarly, Bobby Day’s novelty-nursery hit ʽRockin’ Robinʼ is one of these proto-bubblegum numbers that is very hard to take seriously with all of its tweedlee-dees. Also, the Hollies’ only original composition on the album is ʽLittle Loverʼ, delivered with plenty of fire but songwriting-wise, largely just a minor variation on the Chuck Berry formula (although the resolution of the chorus, with the unexpected twist of "come on and discover... my lo-o-o-o-ve for you!" is quite indicative of future pop songwriting ideas to come). Yet on the whole, there are very few open embarrassments or misfires compared to the number of good songs done in already classy Hollies style.
Granted, that style has not yet been fully worked out: somewhat parallel to the earliest recordings by the Beach Boys, it took the band some time to become experts in multi-part studio harmonizing, meaning that most of the entertainment here is provided either by Allan solo or by Allan propped up and thickened by the other two singing guys. Likewise, guitarist Tony Hicks is not at the top of his game, either, although his brief, well thought-out leads compete rather well with contemporary George Harrison. Unfortunately, the Hollies could not get George Martin for their EMI Studios sessions and had to do with second best, namely, producer Ron Richards (Martin’s assistant), who was good enough but could not get them that sharp, echoey sound which had made Please Please Me sound a bit outer-space-ish: in comparison, the Hollies sound far more downhome and in-yer-face, which also makes all their mistakes and occasional lack of professional tightness sound quite in-yer-face, too. But at least they play their own instruments (at least, I think they do: experience these days tells you to never trust the credits on any early Sixties’ records).
The expanded CD reissue is essential for completists, since it throws on the band’s first three singles from 1963, giving you a better glimpse into the early stages of their development and public success. However, I am not a major fan of the Hollies covering the Coasters — like most of the other British bands, enamoured of Leiber and Stoller’s home pack of adorable musical clowns, Clarke and Co.’s sense of humor was significantly different from that band’s, meaning that ʽAin’t That Just Like Meʼ and ʽSearchinʼ both come off somewhat stiffer than necessary. This means that in this particular case, you will not be uncovering any hidden gems, as opposed to subsequent albums where the bonus tracks are essential, since many of them represent the band’s finest, single-oriented songwriting efforts. But if you simply want to stay a bit more with the Hollies, then what’s wrong with extending the album’s running length by another 20 minutes?..
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