PART I. Rock’s First Decade, and What Made It All Possible

Chapter 4. Girl Groups to the Rescue - Reluctantly


What’s In The Groove

The intro of “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” never moves from the tonic chord, but establishes a rather formal, staccato rhythm - dumm, da, da, daaaa, daa - that carries through much of the record. Played by the snare drum, piano and one bright electric guitar, the phrase reminds one of some Spanish or Greek folk dance at first, the only legato element a twangy, tremolo’d second electric guitar that sustains each chord for two measures. The string bass, with so much low-frequency content that it feels like thunderous pedal notes of a pipe organ, simply repeats a 1-5-5, do-sol-sol phrase. Overall a happy sound, yet with a palpable undercurrent of tension.

KEY ELEMENTS: CHORUS & TITLE LINE, VOCAL, HARMONY VOCALS, PRODUCTION VALUE

Shirley’s lead vocal enters without fanfare, bright and naive, and way up front in the mix. On her third line, three-part harmonies appear, the top voice in soprano range. The vocal blend is technically imperfect, and all three harmonies are higher than the lead in pitch. Together these idiosyncracies convey a sense of untrained innocence that became one of the group’s signatures. There is no hint of acting or guile in the vocals, just the heartfelt joy and insecurity of a young girl in love. For the title line, all four voices blend in tight, almost doo wop harmony, another Shirelles signature.

Three or four violins enter, first repeating the notes of the word “tomorrow,” then swooping downward rather sternly to make room for the vocal entry of the second verse. Their sound is quite harsh and metallic, but in fact the entire record is overly bright, perhaps due to poor acoustics or a dull studio playback system. While Shirley’s lead remains calm and sincere, tension builds around her as three-part background vocals chant “sha, da, dap, shap” over the ongoing rhythmic phrase from the intro. For a moment it suggests the mounting tension of Ravel’s “Bolero.”

The violins provide smooth, feminine responses to each lyric of the second verse, but when the title line returns, a lone cello begins to harp on the note of each chord with steady, insistent eighth notes. The arrangement makes it clear that the singer’s question, which expresses every woman’s concern in a new love, must be answered. The implication is perfectly clear: ‘I’m ready to commit, but if you’re not, let’s call it quits - now.’ Rather mature for a teen lyric, no? King was twenty-nine at the time.

The contrast of stern, eighth note cello and florid violins continues beneath the Bridge, which is rendered even more stark by the absence of background vocals until its final line. A third verse, repeating all the devices of the second, leads us to an almost baroque violin solo that reinforces the ritualistic, perhaps genetically programmed nature of this boy-girl relationship. While the lead lines blaze with fire and emotion, the cello, now louder than before, looms ominously beneath. This spins out into a repeat of the final two lines of the second verse, and then to a quick fade after one final repeat of the title line.

Dressed to Sell

“Will You Love Me Tomorrow” is clearly a teenage girls’ record. What boy, after all, would want to acknowledge the implication of this particular story? Then again, as studies by NARAS (National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, the Grammy people), and various researchers have found - males don’t listen as carefully to lyrics, anyway.

Elvis’ records, however, were aimed alternately at boys and girls. “Hound Dog,” for example, is clearly a boys’ record, as were his later hits “Jailhouse Rock” and “Hard Headed Woman.” Meanwhile “Don’t be Cruel,” and “Love Me Tender” obviously turned the ladies on by the millions. Keep this issue in mind as we delve into more great records of the period. Record execs know exactly who comprises each artist’s core audience. Only after solidly locking up these buyers would they suggest trying a record that might also reel in another market segment.

I venture to guess that “Venus” and “I Only Have Eyes For You” were aimed at male romantics, though their soft-edged dreaminess (and the artists’ sharp looks) also appealed to women. Such discussions may seem gratuitous, but someone has to design a record jacket, marketing campaign and come up with a “look” that connects with the right group of record buyers. Ideally, the artist’s manager should collaborate with the label to identify a target market - gender, age group and other demographics - and make sure that all elements of the release and promotional campaign hit the bullseye. Dressing the Shirelles in leather would have killed their hits as surely as draping the Shangri-Las with formal gowns.

Once the Shirelles hit the top and found gold, the hits just kept coming, bolstered by frequent appearances in New York D.J. Murray The K’s “All Star Rock Shows,” known as national trendsetters. Murray was later dubbed the “Fifth Beatle” for his extraordinary WINS radio campaign to make the Liverpudlians successful. Back on Scepter, Greenberg reissued “Dedicated To the One I Love,” which climbed to a golden No. 3, then followed immediately with “Mama Said,” a Burt Bacharach-Hal David song titled “Baby It’s You,” and finally “Soldier Boy.”

On and on it ran until 1963, when Dixon left Scepter, and when competition from hundreds of girl groups following the Shirelles’ lead simply overwhelmed them on radio and at retail. The Chiffons, Crystals, Angels, Supremes, Dixie Cups, Ronettes, Shangri-Las... all made great records up thru the mid-’60s. It’s amazing that radio found space for them, especially while the British Invasion was peaking. Sadly, in 1963 the Shirelles also discovered that a trust fund holding all their royalties, set up by Greenberg to be released to them on their 21st birthdays, didn’t exist! Enter lawyers, and welcome to the fabulous 60’s. Shirley Alston looked back at the betrayal quite bitterly when interviewed by Bruce Pollock for his 1981 book, When Rock Was Young (Holt, Rhinehart & Winston, N.Y.):

The Artist Cries Out - Hurt:

“During the proceedings I found out things that tore me apart, things I was innocent of. We didn’t know we were being treated this way by the people [at Scepter], because we loved everyone. Our feelings were sincere, and theirs evidently weren’t. We looked to our manager, Florence Greenberg, like a mother. She gave us that mother routine, and being kids, we fell for it completely.

“I should have been wealthy and I wasn’t. I’m still not. They should have gotten us a super act going. We should have played Las Vegas and the best clubs in the country. But nobody was concerned with anything except the money they could put in their pockets. That’s what really bugs me to death.”

[On the other hand, Shirley praised the creative input of all at Scepter in the next breath.] We were fortunate in having Luther [Dixon]. The combination was sort of like Bacharach & David and Dionne Warwick. [about working on “Baby It’s You,” she recalled] I was never so nervous as when Burt Bacharach was in the studio. I told Florence, “I just can’t sing with him in the room. He’s a perfectionist, and if I sing one little note that’s flat, he’s going to know it.” Luther, on the other hand, was easy for me to work with. He told us when he left Scepter, “I’ve given you all I’ve got. I don’t have anything else to give.” He had to find new people to work with, and we had to find someone else to work with us. Neither of us was ever as successful with anyone else as we’d been together.

She clearly ignores the fact that Dixon, who must have known what was going on financially, may have been harboring a deep sense of guilt that prevented him from continuing as their producer. The group’s own wounds may also have dealt their own creativity a daunting blow. As we learned from Elvis’ insecurities, and will see again and again later, creative talent and output are fragile entities. Still proud of the way they had handled their own success, Shirley recalled:

When you’d come off stage after a concert, people would rush you. Not to tear your clothes off. It was different for girl [performers] than it was for guys. [Still,] none of us had a swelled head. And no big deal was really made about us. We never got the keys to the city... One of the girls used to say that all the time. “They should give us keys to the city.” I said, “I’d rather have the keys to a new car.”

The Composer Speaks:

A decade after “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” topped the charts, Carole King was celebrating her own triumph with “Tapestry.” Yet, in an interview with Robert Windeler for the May, 1973 issue of Stereo Review, she still considered herself more a Brill-Building-style writer than a artist. Performing was a scary experience for her.

“As a writer it’s very safe and womblike, because somebody else gets the credit or the blame [for being a hit or flop]. As for the singer/songwriter phenomenon she finds herself such an important part of, “it’s a question of everything moving in cycles. In the Sixties, after President Kennedy’s death, everything got very ‘anti.’ The Beatles in all their glorious insolence were the start of anti-heroism, anti-romanticism. People got sick of the psychedelic sound and wanted softer moods.”

She counts hereself fortunate to have “happened to be there at the right time. I just want to play music, but I have no particular desire for the limelight itself. I have always written more [for] my friends and family. I like to touch them with my songs; touching a mass of other people is a whole other trip. I don’t want to be a Star with a capital S. The main reason I got into performing and recording on my own was to expose my songs to the public in the fastest way. I don’t consider myself a singer.”




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