Archive for the ‘1969’ Category

Saturday Single No. 718

Saturday, January 2nd, 2021

Okay, so I was confused two days ago when I said I’d be back here yesterday. New Year’s Eve felt like a Friday, so I was anticipating posting a Saturday Single the following day. Then yesterday turned out to be Friday.

It’s been hard keeping track of days, anyway, a statement that’s likely not surprising to anyone out there. The disruption in our routines over the past year have often left me trying to track back, wondering what television show I watched the night before or trying to remember something else from the day before that would help me put it on a peg and thus identify the current day.

The one thing I do have that helps me lock in my temporal fix is Wednesday, garbage day. Now, the truck comes by early Thursday morning, so that’s technically garbage day for this part of the city. But the trash goes out to the alley the afternoon before, making Wednesday the day of the week that offers a task than cannot be farmed out to another day, thus providing one bit of certainty during the week.

So even though it’s a Saturday, we’re going to celebrate a Wednesday song: “A Wednesday In Your Garden.” Written by Randy Bachman of the Guess Who, it first showed up on that band’s 1969 album Wheatfield Soul. According to Second Hand Songs, there have been only a handful of covers of the song in the fifty-plus years since.

One of those covers came my way this Christmas, when the Texas Gal gave me the Staple Singers’ Come Go With Me, a seven-CD box set that collects the six albums the group did for Stax in the late 1960s and early 1970s and adds a seventh CD of non-album B-sides and some live work from the 1972 Wattstax concert.

And on the 1969 album We’ll Get Over, we find “A Wednesday In Your Garden.” The Staples take a few liberties with the lyrics, dismissing the “long black funeral gown” for a line I can’t hear clearly.

Doesn’t matter. Here’s the Staple Singers’ take on Randy Bachman’s “A Wednesday In Your Garden.” It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Chart Digging, December 1969

Friday, December 18th, 2020

Having played around the other day with the albums from this week in 1969, I thought we should look at the Hot 100 for that week as well. Here are the Top 10 records from the third week in December 1969:

“Leaving On A Jet Plane” by Peter, Paul & Mary
“Someday We’ll Be Together” by Diana Ross & The Supremes
“Down On The Corner/Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
“Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye” by Steam
“Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head” by B.J. Thomas
“Come Together/Something” by the Beatles
“Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday” by Stevie Wonder
“Take A Letter, Maria” by R.B. Greaves
“Holly Holy” by Neil Diamond
“And When I Die” by Blood, Sweat & Tears

Wow. There’s not a one of those I wouldn’t welcome anytime. If forced to trim two records from those twelve, I’d likely take out “Down On The Corner” and “Take A Letter, Maria,” but only because I had to.

Maybe I love those records in large part because they were among the first batches of records I ever heard rise to the top in the Top 40. I started listening sometime in August 1969 and by December, I had gotten used to the cycle: New record shows up and catches my ear, so I wait for the next time I hear it, and it gets the same reaction from lots of other listeners and climbs up the ladder.

I dunno. But it seems that the records from, oh, the first year-plus of Top 40 listening – August 1969 to December 1970 – belong to me more than records from any other time of my life. There would be a few exceptions, sure, for stuff that came along later during the years I call my sweet spot, but after 1970, I’m not sure I could find a Top Ten in which every record was something I liked.

Has that appreciation for those twelve records lasted for fifty-one years? Let’s look at the iPod and see. Well, ten of the twelve are there. Missing are the B.J. Thomas and Blood, Sweat & Tears records. They should have been there.

Let’s take a look now at the bottom of the chart, at No. 100, and see what we find. It’s a record in its first week on the chart that would enter the Top 40 in early February 1970 and eventually peak at No. 7.

And even my mother liked it. Sometime in February or March 1970, she’d hear it coming from my radio as she came upstairs and stop and listen in the doorway for a moment. Then, as she headed to do whatever it was she was doing, she said something like “Why can’t more of your music be like that?”

Here are the Hollies and “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.”

Chart Digging, December 1969 (Albums)

Wednesday, December 16th, 2020

It’s time to dig into an album chart. Here are the top ten albums from this week in 1969, fifty-one years ago:

Abbey Road by the Beatles
Led Zeppelin II
Tom Jones Live In Las Vegas
Green River by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Let It Bleed by the Rolling Stones
Puzzle People by the Temptations
Santana
Blood, Sweat & Tears
Crosby, Stills & Nash
Easy Rider soundtrack

Well, that’s a hell of a great chart. Seven of those ten albums were once on my LP shelves. Most of those are on the CD shelves, and all seven are here digitally. The exceptions are the Easy Rider soundtrack and the albums by the Temptations and Tom Jones. They never made the LP shelves, and on the digital shelves, I’ve got about half of the tracks from the soundtrack from other sources, but only one track from the other two albums, the Tempts’ “I Can’t Get Next To You.”

But I could put the seven I do have on shuffle and be happy for a long, long time.

It’s time, though, to look for interesting albums further down the chart. Instead of just falling to the bottom of the chart as we often do, we’re going to check some other stuff along the way, fifty slots at a time. And we’ll see what we find to listen to.

Parked at No. 50 we find the soundtrack to the 1969 film Romeo & Juliet by Nino Rota. The album would peak at No. 2 for two weeks, but the only track from it that had any success on the Billboard Hot 100 was a recording of an actual scene from the movie, “Farewell Love Scene,” with the voices of Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey. That single peaked at No. 86 in the late summer of 1969. (Henry Mancini, of course, had a No. 1 hit with Rota’s “Love Theme From Romeo & Juliet” – also known as “A Time For Us” – in June 1969.) As you might guess, the soundtrack is atmospheric, laden with strings and a little subdued. It had a spot on my shelves at one time but seems not to have survived the great sell-off about five years ago. I may have to rectify that.

Heading down fifty spots to No. 100, we come to an album by The Mamas & The Papas that my sister used to own (and may still): 16 Of Their Greatest Hits. I recall listening to it in the basement rec room many times before my sister took it with her in 1972. All the familiar records are there, as well as a few that weren’t as prominent. The most interesting of those might be “For The Love Of Ivy,” a 1968 single that peaked at No. 81 and was inspired by a 1968 film starring Sidney Poitier. I don’t recall the single; I got my M&P fix from the 1967 compilation Farewell To The First Golden Era, which gave me all the hits I needed. (I imagine that during my record-digging days,  if I’d seen a copy of the album my sister had, I’d have grabbed it.)

Down at spot No. 150, we find the first of two albums released by the group Fat Mattress, which was founded by Noel Redding, who played bass in the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Both of the group’s albums are on the digital shelves, and I’m not sure why (except that someone offered them to me). Fat Mattress’ rock doesn’t seem to center on a particular style, and what it does offer is pretty derivative. The album was on its way down the chart after peaking at No. 134. The second album didn’t make the chart, and neither of them spun off any hit singles (though I doubt that was the aim of Redding and his pals).

Finally, at the bottom of the Billboard 200 from fifty-one years ago this week, we find Your Good Thing by Lou Rawls. The album did one more week at No. 200 and then fell off the chart, but it did spin off two singles: “Your Good Thing (Is About To End),” which went to No. 18 on the Billboard Hot 100 and to No. 3 on the magazine’s R&B chart, and “I Can’t Make It Alone,” which went to Nos. 63 and 33, respectively. From what I can tell, the album is your basic Lou Rawls joint, which is a good thing around here. I doubt if I ever saw the album during my digging days. I had a couple of Rawls’ hits albums on the LP shelves, but they’re gone; I have all the hits and lot of album tracks among the digital files.

Once Lou Rawls showed up, the decision here was easy. Rota’s original version of his gorgeous theme got a few moments’ consideration, but Rawls’ work is so smooth, it over-rides even Rota’s theme. And then, Rawls has show up here at this blog only three times since we got our own spot more than ten years ago. He’s due. Maybe Rota is, too, but anyway, here’s “Your Good Thing (Is About To End).”

Saturday Single No. 711

Saturday, November 7th, 2020

Now nursing a cold than came in overnight, and wearied by the week of presidential election anxiety, I am of course relieved at the outcome. (Anyone who’s read this blog for even a brief time can certainly assess my political affiliations.) And I think of the places I’ve cast my presidential ballots over the years.

They range from a Lutheran church about a mile from our home on Kilian Boulevard in 1972 to the Senior Center no more than a mile from our condo last Tuesday. Churches, public schools, park rec centers, the St. Cloud Public Works building, Monticello Township Hall. So many places over almost fifty years where I’ve made my small investment in the republic.

And I’m tired. Though if I had to vote again today, I’d be in that distanced line at the Senior Center, waiting for my turn.

Anyway, as I said. I’m tired, and I’m going to spend the day doing very, very little.

Here’s “Lazy Day” by the Moody Blues (which mentions Sunday and not Saturday, but I don’t care). It’s from the 1969 album On The Threshold Of A Dream, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 707

Saturday, October 3rd, 2020

We’re going to play some Games With Numbers today as we seek a song to highlight this morning, taking today’s date – 10/3/20 – and turning it into 33. Then we’ll take a look at the Billboard Hot 100 charts closest to this date in four years from my so-called sweet spot and see what was sitting at No. 33 at those times. As we nearly always do, we’ll take a look at what was sitting at No. 1 at the time as well.

We’ll start in 1969, during my first season of Top 40 fandom. And we fall on “In A Moment” by the Intrigues, a record I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before. It was released on the Yew label, which Discogs tells me was based in New York, but it sure has echoes of Motown and its subsidiaries. (Well, I’m not sure about the organ fill.) The Intrigues themselves were from Philadelphia, and “In A Moment” was their best charting record, peaking at No. 31 on the Hot 100 and at No, 10 on the Billboard R&B chart. I bet that if I didn’t listen to anything else in the course of creating this post, “In A Moment” – propulsive, catchy and nicely done – would be rolling through my head for a good part of the day.

The No. 1 record during the first days of October 1969 was “Sugar, Sugar” by the Archies.

Two years later, as the rigors of college academic life were beginning to reveal themselves, the record sitting at No. 33 was another piece of R&B, this one smoother and more heart-broken, “The Love We Had (Stays On My Mind)” by the Dells. The record fits right into the catalog of the Chicago-based group, but it rose only another three spots on the Hot 100, peaking at No. 30; on the R&B chart, however, it got to No. 10. The track also serves as a reminder that I need to get more tunes by the Dells onto my digital shelves.

The No. 1 record the first weekend of October 1971 was Rod Stewart’s double-sided “Maggie May/Reason To Believe.”

The first weekend of October 1973 found me quaffing Danish beer and pondering Viking burial mounds. The Top 40 was a long way from my thoughts, and it would in fact be years until I heard the record that was at No. 33 that weekend: “Jimmy Loves Mary-Anne” by the Looking Glass. It’s an okay story record in the “two kids wanna get out of town” genre, but what makes it work for me is the backing track with its swirling organ solo and some tasty fills along the way. The record was at its peak on the Hot 100, and it went to No. 16 on the magazine’s Easy Listening chart. It was the last charting record for the group from New Jersey.

The No. 1 record during the first week of October 1973 was Cher’s “Half-Breed.”

October of 1975 was, as has been noted here numerous times over the past decade-plus, the centerpiece of one of the best seasons of my life. Given that, one would hope for a classic record to be perched at No. 33 in the first Hot 100 of the month. What we get is “The Way I Want To Touch You” by the Captain & Tennille. Well, it’s a sweet love song with excellent production, a better record as I listen to it this morning than it is in my memory. It was on its way to No. 4 on the Hot 100 and to a two-week stay at No. 1 on the Easy Listening chart.

The No. 1 record during the first days of October 1975 was “Fame” by David Bowie.

And even though I’m still not sure about the organ fills in the background, we’re going to make “In A Moment” by the Intrigues today’s Saturday Single.

Whence Goes Quinn?

Wednesday, September 9th, 2020

Among the more interesting things that have happened during this summer of face masks and cultural squabbles (and neither of those things will go away anytime soon) were the decisions by the professional football teams based in Washington, D.C., and Edmonton, Alberta, to drop their nicknames of long standing.

Both teams will eventually select new nicknames, but until then on will compete, respectively, as the Washington Football Team and the Edmonton Football Team (or EE Football Team).

I applaud the changes. I’ve been advocating quietly in my personal sphere for such changes since the Minnesota Twins faced the baseball team from Atlanta in the 1991 World Series, and the American Indian Movement – based in Minneapolis – made known its opposition to the Atlanta baseball team’s nickname (and corollary opposition to the nicknames of several other athletic entities, the Washington football team among them).

When the subject arose this summer and the Washington team announced it would change its name, I figured it wouldn’t be long until the team that plays in Edmonton would do the same in response to complaints that the team’s long-standing nickname trivialized the native Inuit culture. So the second move did not surprise me.

And those decisions, and other events in the past few months, now make me wonder – on what may be a truly trivial track – what does a music fan do now with “The Mighty Quinn (Quinn The Eskimo),” written by Bob Dylan and first recorded with The Band (in 1967 during the Basement Tapes era) and recorded since by many.

(I’ve had similar discussions with myself over the years regarding the title of, and the war whoops in, the Cowsills’ 1968 hit “Indian Lake” and the performer’s name and title of the 1969 hit “Keem-O-Sabe” by Electric Indian. I’ve also pondered the place in my listening and in the larger cultural milieu of The Band’s “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” There are likely other tunes that spark such thoughts, but they do not come to mind immediately.)

The genesis of “The Mighty Quinn,” at least according to some sources, was Dylan’s having seen Anthony Quinn’s performance as an Eskimo in the 1960 movie The Savage Innocents. Dylan, says Wikipedia, “has also been quoted as saying that the song was nothing more than a ‘simple nursery rhyme’.”

The song, according to the website Second Hand Songs, has been recorded at least eighty-one times since Dylan and The Band created it in 1967. That first recorded version wasn’t released until six years ago, when it was part of The Basement Tapes Complete – The Bootleg Series Vol. 11. The version by Dylan that most folks likely know comes from his 1969 performance at the Isle of Wight festival, released in 1970 on Self Portrait and two years later on his second greatest hits collection.

The first cover versions came from Manfred Mann in January 1968, from a group of British studio musicians for an album titled Hits ’68 in May of that year, and in August of that year from a performer calling himself Uncle Bill for an album titled Uncle Bill Socks It To Ya. (From what I can tell, “Uncle Bill” was a man named Burt Wilson, and the album was a collection of songs recorded as if performed by the long-dead W.C. Fields.)

The covers have continued – they were sparse in the 1980s – with the most recent one listed at SHS coming last year on an album titled Strictly Dylan Vol. 3 by a group called the Clarksdale Brothers. (The album is also of interest as it’s home to one of only three covers listed at SHS of Dylan’s 1971 song “George Jackson.”)

There are eleven different versions of the song (and a few duplicates) on the digital shelves here, three of them by Dylan and The Band. Other performers whose covers are in my collection are Brewer & Shipley, the Brothers & Sisters Of Los Angeles (for an album titled Dylan’s Gospel), Kris Kristofferson, the Grateful Dead, Ian & Sylvia, Julie London, Hugo Montenegro, and Klaus Voorman & Friends, featuring the Manfreds. (The Manfreds, according to Wikipedia, are former members of the group Manfred Mann but did not include Mann himself. Voorman was a member of the band during the late 1960s.)

So, do I include a version of the song with this post? I will, but I might not ever again. I have to think about it. But in the meantime, here’s the version from the 1969 album Dylan’s Gospel by the Brothers & Sisters Of Los Angeles (a credit shortened to just the Brothers & Sisters in re-release).

‘Hoverin’ By My Suitcase . . .’

Friday, August 21st, 2020

Brook Benton’s cover of Tony Joe White’s “Rainy Night In Georgia” popped up on iTunes the other day, but the volume of the song was low compared to the tracks that had come before. I did some checking, and the mp3 of the tune (the source of the iTunes file) also had a lower volume than most of the other mp3s on the digital shelves.

Blame the source, which I think was a borrowed CD.

So I found another source for another mp3 and replaced all the files. Now, when the track pops up on random, the opening guitar figure can grab my attention the way it did back in the early months of 1970, when I heard the record on KDWB, where it peaked at No. 17; WLS, where it peaked at No. 4; and WJON, which, as far as I know, did not offer surveys. (Am I right, Yah Shure?)

Nationally, the record peaked at No. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100. It also went to No. 2 on the magazine’s Easy Listening chart and spent a week at No. 1 on the R&B chart.

I’ve got a few other versions of the song, but Benton’s take on it remains my favorite, partly because it’s the first version I heard but mostly because its hushed sound and that opening guitar riff remind me of evenings in my room with my old RCA radio during my first Top 40 winter.

There are quite a few covers of the song out there; Second Hand Songs lists eighty-five versions, including White’s and Benton’s, and there are likely others not listed. I see versions listed there by Tennessee Ernie Ford, B.J. Thomas, Johnny Rivers, Chuck Jackson, Boz Scaggs, and Ray Charles, a duet by Sam Moore and Conway Twitty (from a 1994 album titled Rhythm Country and Blues), and instrumental takes by Al Hirt, Cornell Dupree, Boots Randolph, and more.

But we’ll close today with the original version of the song by Tony Joe White. It’s from his 1969 album . . . Continued.

What’s At No. 68?

Thursday, August 20th, 2020

I can’t resist today’s date: 8/20/2020. So we’re going to play Games With Numbers and turn those numerals into sixty-eight, and then we’ll check what was at No. 68 in the Billboard Hot 100 on this date during the seven years that make up my sweet spot, the years 1969 through 1975.

So, during the third week of August 1969, when the No. 1 record was “Honky Tonk Women” by the Rolling Stones, what was parked at No. 68? Well, it’s a record I don’t think I’ve ever heard: “I Do” by the Moments. The R&B trio from Hackensack, New Jersey, was eight months away from breaking through with the sweet “Love On A Two-Way Street,” and “I Do” went only to No. 62 in the Hot 100 (and to No. 10 on the Billboard R&B chart). Listening this morning, it sounds shrill.

A year later, the third week of the eighth month of 1970 found Bread’s “Make It With You” at No. 1. Our target spot down the chart was occupied by a short version of one of my favorite tracks from that summer fifty years ago: A cover of Neil Young’s “Down By The River” by drummer Buddy Miles & The Freedom Express. The link is to the single version, which I don’t recall hearing; Rick and I heard the album track – a much better piece of work – on WJON during late evenings in his screen porch that season. We’ve caught the record at its peak; it would go no higher than No. 68.

Sitting at No. 1 forty-nine years ago this week was the Bee Gees’ “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.” The No. 68 record during that week in 1971 was one of the two hits I recall from my college years to feature a banjo solo: “Sweet City Woman” by the Stampeders, a trio from Calgary, Alberta. (“Dueling Banjos” from the movie Deliverance is the other I recall; there are likely more.) The Stampeders’ record went to No. 8 in the Hot 100 and to No. 5 in the magazine’s Easy Listening chart. And you know, you can do lots worse than love and tenderness and macaroons.

On to 1972, when the No. 1 record as August 20 went past was “Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl)” by the Looking Glass (and its mention brings back radio memories as Rick, Gary and I drove to Winnipeg, Manitoba). As we drove, we likely also heard the A-side of the single at No. 68 that week: “Burning Love/It’s A Matter Of Time” by Elvis Presley. (I don’t know that I’d ever heard the B-side until today.) “Burning Love” was Presley’s last big hit in the Hot 100, as it peaked at No. 2. (He would still have Top Ten hits on the Easy Listening and Country charts.) On the Billboard Easy Listening chart, the record – with “It’s A Matter Of Time” listed as the A-side, according to Joel Whitburn’s top adult songs book – went to No. 9.

“Brother Louie” by the Stories sat atop the Hot 100 as the third week of August 1973 ended and the fourth week began. Down at our target slot that week was the title track from Alice Cooper’s current album, “Billion Dollar Babies.” I admit that I’ve listened to very little of Cooper’s work over the years, and in 1973, I was, I guess, pointedly ignoring it as gauche or something. The record had guest vocals from Donovan, but still disappointed, peaking at No. 57, considerably lower than Cooper’s last few singles.

Perched at No. 1 as the third week of August 1974 passed was “(You’re) Having My Baby” by Paul Anka and Odia Coates. Hoping for better, we drop down to our target at No. 68 and find “Finally Got Myself Together (I’m a Changed Man)” by the Impressions, a record I do not recall and honestly doubt that I’ve ever heard until today. It’s a sweet soul/R&B side, underlaid with the social awareness that ran through much of Curtis Mayfield’s work. The record peaked at No. 17 in the Hot 100 and spent two weeks on top of the Billboard R&B chart.

Forty-five years ago this week, as August 1975 spooled out, the No. 1 record was “Fallin’ In Love” by Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds. Sixty-seven spots further down the chart, we find, again, the Impressions, this time with “Sooner Or Later,” a tale of romantic consequences told with an irresistible groove. The record went no higher on the Hot 100, but went to No. 3 on the R&B chart.

Saturday Single No. 690

Saturday, May 23rd, 2020

The other day, I drove past the house on Kilian Boulevard, the one Mom sold in 2004. I don’t get over to the East Side very often, and I was startled to see that whoever lives there now has put up a fence.

It’s a nice fence, about six feet tall with vertical white slats, enclosing the back yard. Curious, I drove around the block and then along the alley, looking at how the fence installers handled the relatively steep bank along Eighth Street, the rise along the driveway, and the area back by the alley where the garbage cans stand.

And as I examined the fence, I was stuck by my reaction to it. Not all that deeply inside of me, a voice was saying, “Dammit, you can’t fence off my back yard!”

Of course, it’s not my back yard anymore. Hasn’t been since 1976, when I packed a few things into my 1961 Falcon and moved across town to the drafty old house on the North Side.

But in a way that I’m sure lots of people will understand, it still is my back yard. It’s where Dad put the swing set and built the sandbox during the summer of 1957. It’s where I took a batting stance near the back steps and learned to hit a plastic baseball over the garage and into the alley. It’s where I endured the drudgery of digging dandelions and picking up sticks more times than I can count from childhood into young adulthood, adding mowing the grass along the way.

The back yard is where Dad cooked bread-and-butter roasts on his grill on many Saturdays and Sundays from the early 1960s into the 1990s. It’s where relatives gathered, again from the early 1960s into the 1990s to celebrate our family’s milestones: Lutheran confirmations, high school graduations, weddings, anniversaries.

It’s where we sat – Mom, my sister and brother-in-law, the Texas Gal and I – late on the June afternoon when Dad died, beginning to plan his funeral.

As I said, it’s a nice fence, and no doubt the folks who live in the house on Kilian have good reasons for installing it. And they certainly have the right to do so. It’s their back yard.

But in a very fundamental way, it’s always going to be my back yard, too.

Here’s a tune unrelated to any of that except for the words “back yard” in the title: Nat Stuckey’s cover of “Clean Up Your Own Back Yard,” first recorded by Elvis Presley. Stuckey’s version comes from his 1969 album New Country Roads. And it’s today’s Saturday Single.

‘When I Was Small . . .’

Friday, May 1st, 2020

Well, it’s the First Of May, which makes it a Bee Gees day here.

The maudlin track showed up first in early 1969 on the group’s Odessa album, which entered the Billboard 200 on February 22 of that year, on its way to No. 20. It’s a somewhat baffling collection of lovely tracks covering almost every genre conceivable in 1969 (excluding hard rock). As I wrote almost thirteen years ago:

Perhaps the most sensible comment I’ve ever heard or read about Odessa came from the Rolling Stone Album Guide, which called it “the Sgt. Pepper’s copy all ’60s headliners felt driven to attempt,” noting that it “wasn’t bad; faulting it for pretentiousness makes absolutely no sense.”

I didn’t hear the album until a few years after it had been released, and I certainly don’t recall hearing “First Of May” on the radio after it was released as a single in early 1969. I wasn’t yet in full Top 40 mode, but the sounds were around me a fair amount of the time, and I think I’d remember the record. I’m not sure it charted on the Twin Cities’ KDWB or WDGY, based on the (incomplete) information offered at Oldiesloon.

The record did get into the Top 40 in Billboard, reaching No. 37, not major hit territory.

But right from the start, the song attracted cover versions. Second Hand Songs lists fifty covers. The earliest is from a group called Top Of The Pops in March 1969. I suspect a connection to the British television show; a glance at the album’s jacket kind of tells me that the recordings on the album are performed by studio musicians.

The first cover of “First Of May” by a known musician came from José Feliciano on his Feliciano/10 to 23 album released in June 1969. Covers followed into 1974 from names I know like Cilla Black, Matt Monro, Mel Carter, and Roger Whittaker, and from names I’m not familiar with like Jill Kirkland and Cornelia.

Instrumental covers by groups including the Mystic Moods Orchestra also came along in those five years after the Bee Gees’ release, as did covers in Danish, Italian, Portuguese and Swedish.

And even after that flurry, covers would come along every once in a while, with a spate of ten or so of them in the Oughts by performers whose names I do not recognize. (Except, that is, for Robin Gibb, who collaborated on a cover of “First Of May” with G4 in 2005.)

I’ve not heard a lot of those covers (the only covers of the song on the digital shelves are those from Feliciano and the Mystic Moods Orchestra), so I’m going to select one pretty much at random to mark the day.

Here’s Tony Hadley’s atmospheric and, frankly, odd cover from 1997. (Knowing that Hadley was the lead singer for Spandau Ballet makes the cover’s quirks a little more understandable.)