Archive for the ‘Saturday Single’ Category

Saturday Single No. 544

Saturday, June 10th, 2017

So let’s take a look at the late spring of 1972, around the time my freshman year of college ended and a patchwork summer began. During spring quarter, I’d retaken the history course I’d failed in the fall, but because of that F and another that same fall quarter in chemistry, I was still a few credits short of actually being a sophomore.

I wasn’t worried about that. After that disastrous first quarter, I’d worked harder on my courses and was doing much better. Socially, I was doing okay: I was still spending time with the guys in the dorms, the ones I’d met during the orientation the summer before, and I was hanging around with folks from KVSC, the college radio station, in the studios and the lounge, and on the softball field.

I’d dated three girls during the 1971-72 academic year, and the results showed that I was not in any way ready for a relationship. The first young lady moved ahead faster than I was ready for, and I ran. The second young lady found me insecure, and she dumped me. The third young lady moved ahead rapidly, and I again ran. I needed time off, and life gave it to me: I would not have a date from the middle of May 1972 until sometime in the summer of 1973.

So the spring of 1972 was a mixed bag. So, too, was the Billboard Hot 100 of June 10, 1972, forty-five years ago today:

“The Candy Man” by Sammy Davis, Jr.
“I’ll Take You There” by the Staple Singers
“Oh Girl” by the Chi-Lites
“Song Sung Blue” by Neil Diamond
“Sylvia’s Mother” by Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show
“Nice To Be With You” by Gallery
“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” by Roberta Flack
“Morning Has Broken” by Cat Stevens
“Outa-Space/I Wrote A Simple Song” by Billy Preston
“(Last Night) I Didn’t Get To Sleep At All” by the 5th Dimension

How much did I like or not like those records? None of them showed up on my 2010 Ultimate Jukebox. Only one – the Staple Singers’ record – is among the 3,700 or so tracks in my iPod. (I probably should add “Oh Girl” and maybe “Song Sung Blue” to the iPod.) But for me and my evolving tastes – Joe Cocker, Eric Clapton, Delaney & Bonnie, Shawn Phillips and a few others were moving to the top of my list at the time – that was a pretty sad Top Ten.

But are there nuggets in the deeper places? Playing Games With Numbers with the digits available in today’s date doesn’t get us as deep into the Hot 100 as I want to go. So we’re going to check out Nos. 100, 90, and 80 to find ourselves a Saturday Single and hope that the track is available on YouTube. (The copy of the Hot 100 I have does not have the Bubbling Under section, which likely means it was in a different place in the magazine that week than the Hot 100 itself, and the unknown compiler either didn’t know it could be found or didn’t want to take the time.)

Parked at the very bottom of the Hot 100 forty-five years ago today was Petula Clark and her pretty bland cover of “My Guy,” the Smokey Robinson tune that Mary Wells took to No. 1 on both the Top 100 and the Billboard R&B chart in 1964. It’s a bit too bouncy and a bit too meh for me. The record would peak only at No. 70. Although she had two more records hit the Hot 100 (one in 1972 and another in 1982), Petula’s day was done.

Coming up ten places, we find “Rip Off” by Laura Lee, the tale of a woman’s planned vengeance on her cheating partner. Released on the Hot Wax label, the record sounds, of course, like Motown. That’s unsurprising, given that Hot Wax was the label that Edward Holland, Jr., Lamont Dozier and Brian Holland started when they left Motown in 1968. I like it a lot, especially the payoff verse, when Lee details exactly how she’s going to leave the guy with nothing:

I’m taking the carpet off the floor and the wallpaper off the walls
I’m taking the telephone so he can’t make no calls
This fool is in for the shock of his life. I’m tired of being neglected.
I’m gonna slap him in the face with the unexpected.

“Rip Off” went only to No. 68 in the Hot 100, but went to No. 3 on the R&B chart, Lee’s best-performing single on that chart.

Moving to No. 80, we come across a familiar record: “Coconut” by Nilsson, in its first week in the chart. It would eventually make its way to No. 8, become an earworm of great magnitude, inspire jokes (and in current days, memes) about the lime in the coconut, and spawn thousands (perhaps millions) of imitations of Nilsson’s own imitation of an island patois. You might guess I don’t like it very much. I don’t, but nevertheless, it’s got a place on the digital shelves, and when I hear on an oldies station, I sing along.

So, where do we go? I don’t like “Coconut” (and it’s far too familiar anyway), and I’m not moved by Petula Clark’s take on “My Guy.” Then it’s lucky that I like Laura Lee’s “Rip Off.” It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 543

Saturday, June 3rd, 2017

Okay, so it’s going to be a beautiful day today, with the temperatures peaking somewhere above eighty degrees. And the Texas Gal wants to go out and play.

We’ll likely head north, hoping that the traffic of folks heading from the Twin Cities “to the lake” – as the Minnesota saying goes – is not too thick. Our destination? Well, we may head to the city of Brainerd, an hour away, and hit an antique shop or two as well as a discount store we’ve heard about.

We may head a little further than that and stop in the rather touristy town of Nisswa, not far at all from Gull Lake, where my dad’s boss had a summer home during the 1960s and I spent some time water skiing on occasion. In Nisswa, we’d walk the three blocks or so of (rather expensive) shops and probably have some ice cream.

And we’ll likely stop in Baxter at Morey’s Fish House for some treats.

Beyond that, we don’t know. But we do know we’re heading north in a very short time, so I’m just going to grab a June tune, one either with “June” in its title or that was recorded in June. So let’s see what the RealPlayer gives us.

Among the very few tracks that I know were recorded on June 3, we find “Southern Casey Jones,” recorded in Chicago on this date in 1936 by a performer named Jesse James. It’s one of many recordings telling the tale of the legendary (but real) railroad engineer who died when his Illinois Central freight train crashed into a stationary train near Vaughan, Mississippi, on April 30, 1900. The crash became fodder for numerous tunes in numerous versions, moving the location of the crash and revising much more, as well.

The recording came my way in the fourth volume of Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music, the group of tracks that Smith had selected before his death in 1991. The first three volumes were released in 1952, and that fourth volume was released in 2007.

Anyway, here’s Jesse James’ version of the Casey Jones tale, “Southern Casey Jones.” It was recorded eighty-one years ago today, and it’s today’s Saturday Single:

Saturday Single No. 542

Saturday, May 27th, 2017

In between helping the Texas Gal with setting up and planting the garden and helping my sister coordinate financial and medical details for my mom, I’ve not had a lot of time to think this week. Add to that my annual spring sinus infection, and my energy level is low. So we’re going to do a quick and easy post here this morning. Here’s the Billboard Top Ten from forty years ago this week, the end of May 1977, when I was midway through my term as arts and entertainment editor at St. Cloud State’s University Chronicle.

“Sir Duke” by Stevie Wonder
“When I Need You” by Leo Sayer
“I’m Your Boogie Man/Wrap Your Arms Around Me” by KC & The Sunshine Band
“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac
“Got To Give It Up (Part 1)” by Marvin Gaye
“Gonna Fly Now (Theme From Rocky)” by Bill Conti
“Couldn’t Get It Right” by the Climax Blues Band
“Lucille” by Kenny Rogers
“Lonely Boy” by Andrew Gold
“Feels Like The First Time” by Foreigner

At the time, I was listening to albums and album rock at home, to Top 40 in the Chronicle newsroom, and to whatever it was that was offered by jukebox in the Atwood Center snack bar. And I knew all of those during the spring of 1977 except maybe “Wrap Your Arms Around Me” and the Marvin Gaye record.

Did I like the ones I knew? Not many. I truly liked the Stevie Wonder and the Fleetwood Mac, and I loved – as readers will know – the Bill Conti (though I heard it far less on the radio than I did Maynard Ferguson’s version of “Gonna Fly Now”). I didn’t care about “Boogie Man,” “Couldn’t Get It Right” or “Lonely Boy,” and I disliked the singles by Rogers and Foreigner.

This morning, “Wrap” was still a stranger, but I know the Gaye record not only from hearing it over the years since but from the hoo-ha about its having been appropriated in 2013 for “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams. (I’m still baffled that I don’t remember “Got To Give It Up” from 1977.)

But what else I there in that Hot 100? Let’s do some games with numbers, taking today’s date – 5/27/17 – and checking out Nos. 22, 32 and 44 to find a Saturday Single. Just for fun, we’ll also check out No. 100.

Sitting at No. 22 forty years ago was “Calling Dr. Love” by Kiss, coming down from a peak at No. 16. While I know many loved the painted ones, Kiss has never been on my list. So I’ll refrain from comment except to note that the record was the group’s tenth of an eventual twenty-seven in or near the Hot 100 between 1974 and 1990.

Things sound better at No. 32, at least for fans of quirky one-hit wonders, for sitting in that spot forty years ago this week was “Ariel” by Dean Friedman. The only appearance by the singer from Paramus, New Jersey, in the Hot 100, the record is one I remember fondly from evenings in my tiny mobile home in Sauk Rapids. “Ariel” peaked at No. 22, and I still think its tale reflects accurately at least a portion of the odd carnival that was the mid-1970s. As I wrote nine years ago, “Friedman got the details right about post-hippie, pre-disco America, from the peasant blouse to the Legion Hall.”

Parked at No. 44, we find “Hollywood” by Rufus featuring Chaka Khan, heading up to No. 32. I know the record now, but I don’t recall hearing it anywhere during those months forty years ago. It showed up for me on the album Ask Rufus during 1997, and was pleasant listening but no more than that.

And finally, we look at the No. 100 record during that week forty years gone: “Freddie” by Charlene. A tribute to the late actor and comedian Freddie Prinze that peaked at No. 96, it’s soggy and pathetic. (Charlene, of course, was the perpetrator in 1982 of the No. 3 hit “I’ve Never Been To Me.”)

Given the options, I have little choice, but that’s okay: Dean Friedman’s “Ariel” is today’s Saturday Single. [This is the album version, not the single version, but so it goes.]

Saturday Single No. 541

Saturday, May 20th, 2017

So I searched the 94,746 tracks in the RealPlayer for tracks with “Saturday” in their titles (and yeah, we’ve done that before, but it’s been a while and we’ve added some material), and came up with 115 tracks.

But you know the drill: There are a number of them we can’t use, like everything we get from the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. With the exception of their title tracks, other entire albums get tossed away, too, like Saturday Night Special, a 1975 album by jazzman Norman Connors; Come Saturday Morning, a 1970 easy listening treat from Jackie Gleason; Between Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, a 2005 release from Mick Sterling; and Come Saturday Morning (And Other Hits), a 1970 album by the Living Trio. And there are single tracks from albums that have “Saturday” in their titles, like a Tom Waits track from his own The Heart of Saturday Night from 1974 and a Bobby Charles track found on the 1993 compilation Louisiana Saturday Night.

But we still have about forty tracks to choose from, so let’s look at three of them.

The first track under consideration is “Saturday Nite At The Duckpond” by the Cougars, a 1963 record from a short-lived band from Bristol, England. The surfish record, which spent eight weeks in the U.K. singles chart and peaked at No. 33, borrows themes from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, an act of appropriation that led to its being banned from broadcast by the BBC. It showed up in the digital files here as part of a collection titled Instrumental Gems 1959-1970.

A fair number of emails show up here offering digital copies of new musical releases, and that, I think, is how I came to own copies of two albums by Gin Wigmore, a singer-songwriter from New Zealand. She has an odd quality to her voice that’s not easy to describe, something that other listeners might think makes her voice sound, well, “affected and “precious” are words that comes to mind. Over the course of an album, that quality might be wearisome, but one track at a time, I think it works. “Saturday Smile” is from her 2013 album Gravel & Wine, and it’s a slightly melancholy but effective meditation on love and loss.

Seven versions of “Come Saturday Morning” lie on the digital shelves. The song was first recorded by Liza Minelli in 1969, but became popular when the Sandpipers’ was included on the soundtrack to the 1970 file The Sterile Cuckoo. From there, for a few years, the coverfest was on, with easy listening giants like Ray Conniff and Jackie Gleason joined by singers like Johnny Mathis and Patti Page, instrumentalists like Peter Nero and Andre Kostelanetz and more. I think the Sandpipers’ version is my favorite, but the most interesting of the seven I have – and I will no doubt go looking for more in the next few days – is the one offered by former Raider Mark Lindsay on his 1970 album Silverbird.

And for some reason, as I ponder those three, I keep returning to Gin Wigmore’s “Saturday Smile.” It’s grabbed hold of me this morning like I remember it doing the first time I listened to it a few years ago. So it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 540

Saturday, May 13th, 2017

A fresh cup of coffee sits on my right, a bowl of Grape Nuts dusted with brown sugar is soaking up milk on a TV tray to my left, and I’m struggling with writing a piece for tomorrow’s Parents Day program at our UU Fellowship. (We don’t meet during the summer months, when Father’s Day falls, so when Mother’s Day comes around, we celebrate all parents.)

As I deal these days with the issues of an aging mother, I’m learning that the roles of parent and child sometimes shift and, in some ways, reverse. And in thinking about the circles of life, I’m reminded of this bit of verse I wrote while I was in graduate school in 1984, titled, appropriately, “The Circle Always Closes.”

The circle always closes, and time swings on its hinge.
You look ahead, but then you find the past once more in view:
People you’d thought left behind through time or simple chance
Appear again in warning, love and wisdom in each glance.
To know of what they’re warning, you must confront them still,
You must consider what they said and did while forming you.
To forget is to abandon, so you recollect, and then
The circle always closes, and you build anew again.

That put me in mind, of course, of another lyric, a better one that’s been put to melody: Joni Mitchell’s “The Circle Game,” which Tom Rush recorded as the title tune of his 1968 album, which is where I heard it first. It’s a good song, and I have a few versions of it here. My favorite is the one by Ian & Sylvia; that one was on their 1967 album So Much For Dreaming, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Songwriting credited corrected after first posting.

Saturday Single No. 539

Saturday, May 6th, 2017

One of my favorite things about our membership at the local Unitarian Universalist Fellowship is that on the first Sunday of each month during the church year, we gather after our service for a lunch of soup and bread. And I’m even more pleased when one of those Soup Sundays comes along and I have a chance to provide a soup.

Around these parts, the soup-making generally falls to the Texas Gal. It’s one of her favorite things to cook. She’s good at it, and when she makes soup, she makes a lot of it, so we end up with extra to freeze for those days when we don’t want to think too hard about dinner. And maybe twice during our church year, she’ll make a soup to take to church for one of our Soup Sundays. The hosting is generally sorted out by having each of our fellowship’s committees take a month, and the Texas Gal is on a couple of committees.

But for tomorrow’s Soup Sunday, I’m cooking. The Building & Grounds Committee was assigned to host tomorrow’s lunch, but that committee is a little short-staffed, so I volunteered to bring a soup and then help with clean-up afterward.

And when I volunteered, I knew exactly what I was going to make: Polska bean stew. It’s from a recipe I found while wandering around the Interwebs a few years ago, one that originated on the website of the company that owns the Hillshire Farms brand of sausage.Polska Bean Stew The Texas Gal thought it sounded good, so we gave it a try. We liked it, although there are a few things we would have changed. We made it again with those changes, and then – a couple of years ago – we brought it to church for a Soup Sunday. At the end of the lunch, our seven-quart crockpot was scraped nearly clean. (That’s not a new experience for us; nearly every soup we’ve brought to a Soup Sunday has been a hit, from the Texas Gal’s vegetable beef or chicken noodle soups to my Swedish yellow pea soup.)

So later today, I’ll shine up the stockpot and get to work on a batch of Polska bean stew. I’ll be making a triple batch: two-thirds of it will go into the crockpot tomorrow to take to church, and the rest we’ll keep here. We’ll have some for dinner on Monday, most likely, and we’ll freeze some.

I won’t list the recipe here, but here are the ingredients: Bacon, kielbasa, chopped onions, sliced carrots, minced garlic, kidney beans, cannellini beans, chicken broth, water, diced tomatoes, oregano, sage, pepper and bay leaf. It also calls for hot pepper sauce, which we skip, but we do put in a pinch of home-grown dried hot chili pepper. (If anyone out there wants the recipe with notes on our modifications, just let me know.)

Thinking about Polish bean stew, I went into the RealPlayer looking for an appropriate tune. I found nothing for “Polska” and nothing that seemed worthy when I searched for “Polish.” “Beans” got me lots of versions of “Red Beans & Rice” and “Cornbread & Butterbeans,” but nothing that worked for me this morning. “Stew” got me lots of tunes by Al Stewart, John Stewart and Rob Stewart as well as a few versions of “Stewball.”

So I pulled out of my memory the fact that a mazurka is a Polish dance, and among the works I have by French orchestra leader Franck Pourcel, I found the “Obertass Mazurka,” written by Henryk Wieniawski, a Polish composer of the Nineteenth Century. The recording is from Pourcel’s 1993 album Treasures Of Slav Music, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 538

Saturday, April 29th, 2017

Sometime around 1969, I was wandering around Mac’s Music in downtown St. Cloud, either checking out books of solos for trumpet or piano sheet music (if it was before the autumn of that year, it was horn music I was looking for, as I hadn’t yet resumed playing piano), and I came across a bin of odd little plastic thingies. I picked one up, white with a red sort-of speaker, and took a closer look.

It was called a Hum-A-Zoo, and it was basically a kazoo in altered form. HumaZooIntrigued, I spent fifteen cents or so and began a period of (most likely) annoying my friends, my family and our neighbors by humming random tunes into the toy as I went about my mid-teen days. (It wasn’t the only odd instrument I had cluttering the knick-knack bin on my bedroom table; I also had a couple of Jew’s harps, a nose flute and a box of what were called – if my memory serves me well today – Swiss bird whistles that I bought from a vending machine at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport.) But the joy of the Hum-A-Zoo faded, as it does for most gimmicks and gewgaws, and it eventually sat ignored in the bin, its pristine white in time turning an ugly shade of yellow.

I’m not sure if the Hum-A-Zoo is still with me in one of the boxes of miscellany I’ve ported around through the years. If it is, I’m not sure the little membrane would still be flexible enough to produce the buzz that a good kazoo provides. No matter. Up until last autumn, I would have put long odds on needing either a Hum-A-Zoo or its ancestor, a kazoo, for any of my musical needs or impulses.

That was when I was working with my friends Heather and Lucille to put together our show, Cabaret De Lune. And we decided that my tune “Twenty-First Century Blues” needed an instrumental break on kazoos. I didn’t even bother to look for the Hum-A-Zoo but went kazoo hunting instead. I called a couple of music stores and came up empty, but my third call, to an establishment called Bridge of Harmony, was a success: The store had two kazoos. Either Heather or Lucille stopped by and bought them, and they were then used to good effect for that small portion of our show. And I assume that Heather and Lucille took their kazoos home for whatever use they had for them.

And I now have a kazoo, a blue and gold one – just like in the picture – from the Trophy Music Company of Cleveland, Ohio.kazoo

Earlier today, I was practicing with two of my fellow musicians from our Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, preparing for the next few Sundays. This week’s program is a presentation by one of our members on Scott Joplin and his times. Earlier this week, that member asked Jane and Tom if they’d perform “I’m Certainly Living A Ragtime Life,” a tune recorded in 1913 for the Zoophone label by G.H. Elliot. (Was that the original? I’d guess so, but I’m not certain.)

So I listened this morning as Jane and Tom worked through the chords – he with his banjo and she with her guitar – and took a go at the melody. And when they finished a couple of run-throughs, I idly said, “You know what might be kind of fun in there? A kazoo.”

Tom jumped on the idea: “Oh, yeah, that would be great!” Jane nodded her head, and one of the two asked if I had a kazoo.

Well, I didn’t, but I knew where I could get one. So I joined them on the vocal and then faked a humming part as they ran through the chords for the chorus. And on the way home from practice, I stopped by Bridge of Harmony and picked up my Trophy Music kazoo. It cost a little more than four bucks, far more than my red and white Hum-A-Zoo cost me nearly fifty years ago. (Yeah, I could check the actual values with an inflation calculation, but never mind.)

I may never use the kazoo after tomorrow; the demand for a kazoo solo tends to be pretty rare, I’m sure. But that’s okay. Maybe twice in a lifetime is enough.

In any case, “I’m Certainly Living A Ragtime Life” is a fun song to do. It’s hard to make out the words in the 1913 recording, so here’s a modern version by British singer Ian Whitcomb. It’s from his 1972 album Under The Ragtime Moon (an album I must find), and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 537

Saturday, April 22nd, 2017

Today is Earth Day, and – according to the map I saw on the CBS Evening News last night – folks around a large portion of the world will be marching and mobilizing to defend and protect our environment, science, and common sense itself.

We did this almost half-a-century ago, and we made some progress in cleaning up our back yards (literal and metaphoric both), progress that in many cases is distinctly imperiled by the ham-handed actions – some already taken with many others likely yet to come – promised by the science-denying worshippers of Mammon who currently run our federal government. I guess we naively though we’d won.

We were wrong.

I’m not, however, going to turn this space into a screed about all the things that are likely to head in the wrong direction in the next few years. I’m just going to note that – as I have in the past few months – I’m going to continue to regularly call and email Minnesota’s U.S. Senators and our local U.S. Representative about matters that I believe need better thought and attention; I plan to begin doing the same with my state senator and representative on state and local matters.

Forty-seven years ago, I marched, hoping my energy and actions – combined with the energy and actions of like-minded people – would help preserve those things that needed preserving and help change those things that needed changing. Here’s my armband from back then:

Armband

These days, I write emails and make phone calls, still hoping my energy and actions – combined with the energy and actions of like-minded people – can preserve those things that need preserving and can change those things that need changing .

I find comfort in the large numbers of people who, in whatever way they choose, are working harder than ever these days for progressive causes. Turning in another direction, it’s no secret that I find comfort from day to day in music. So here, to keep to the topic at hand, is Tony Joe White’s “Ol’ Mother Earth.” It’s from his 1973 album Homemade Ice Cream, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 536

Saturday, April 15th, 2017

So, a chance to breathe. And to rewind to two weeks ago today, when I headed over to my recently discovered barber shop, Barbers on Germain, where Russ has been clear-cutting my scalp since sometime early this year.

On the way over – not far; just across the Mississippi and west about a mile – I slid into the CD player a Time-Life anthology of hits from 1964, and as I drove, up popped Chuck Berry’s “You Never Can Tell.” I knew the record, but only a little, not nearly as well as I know his 1950s work that was a major part of the foundation of rock ’n’ roll, the records like “Johnny B. Goode,” “Sweet Little Sixteen,” and the rest.

And I realized – not for the first time – that I’d not offered anything here to note Chuck Berry’s passing on March 18. Over the years here, I’ve noted the passing of many artists, but I imagine that if I were to take the time to track out the subjects of those pieces, my choices of which artists’ passings to note might seem idiosyncratic. That’s likely no surprise. But to ignore Chuck Berry?

So I thought, as I headed up the sidewalk to Barbers on Germain with the strains of “You Never Can Tell” running through my head – “C’est la vie,” say the old folks. “It goes to show you never can tell.” – that I should probably do something here about the man and his music. Well, c’est la vie, indeed. The following Monday was the start of two weeks of dealing with changes in my mom’s life, as I noted here yesterday.

I’m not going to say that Chuck Berry’s music, life and passing are now old news: The edition of Rolling Stone that came into my mailbox yesterday has Berry on the cover. But I’ve read too many tributes to the man at too many blogs and online publications in the past month to have any assurances that whatever I offer here would be anything other than echoes of those pieces.

So I think back to that drive to the barber shop. As “You Never Can Tell” came out of the speaker, I thought about Dave Marsh’s comments in his 1989 ranking of the top 1,001 singles, The Heart of Rock & Soul. He ranked “You Never Can Tell” at No. 341, writing:

Chuck returned from doing time on his trumped-up Mann Act charge in 1964 as if his flow of hits had never been interrupted. The new batch included two of his finest, “Promised Land” and “You Never Can Tell.”

“You Never Can Tell” makes an obvious break with Berry’s earlier format, not so much by prominently featuring Johnny Johnson’s piano as by using it with a New Orleans-style beat.

Had prison altered Chuck’s gifts in any way? Nah, he was bitter and hostile before he went in. And still a poet when he came out. How else explain: “They furnished off an apartment with a two-room Roebuck sale / The coolerator was crammed with teevee dinners and ginger ale.” It may not read as great as it sings, but then, neither does the rhythm of everyday life.

So here, to catch up and to offer my respect and thanks to Chuck Berry, is “You Never Can Tell.” It went to No. 14 in the Billboard Hot 100 in 1964, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

(Quotation corrected after first posting.)

Saturday Single No. 535

Saturday, April 8th, 2017

With only a few days left to organize my mom’s stuff, my sister and I will be spending most of the day in Sauk Rapids today, trying to get ready for Wednesday’s move. I imagine that any appearance I make in this space through the middle of next week will be cursory.

But before I head out today, here’s an appropriately titled track: “Movin’ On” by Bobby Whitlock. It’s from his 1975 album One Of A Kind, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.