Tommy James And The Shondells – Mony Mony. Roulette R-7008. March 1968.
I’ve passed this way before…it’s Record Store Day. There’s a school of thought that says every day is a ‘Record Store Day’.
There are little more than a handful of record ‘shops’ in Liverpool city centre and to the best of my knowlegde, they are open 360 days a year. Back in the days when people didn’t need a media campaign in order to buy some ‘vinyls’, record stores, or shops as we used to call them, were an intrinsic part of growing up. They were what created the building blocks that formed your adult existence; a place to stare longingly at things you may never have enough money to own. Real, pertinent objects, like a brand new copy of ‘Band On The Run.’ My love affair with ‘vinyls’ began at a very early age. Being the youngest of six children, in the late sixties, early seventies, music was everywhere, in every room, wherever you went.
At that time there was no record shop in Speke where I grew up, that came a bit later, in 1976. There were however, three in Garston within spitting distance of each other. Woolworths of course, Gulley’s in James Street, on the right there; but best of all, just on the left up the village, was De Carle Music, a treasure trove of hitherto unknown gold, all laid out for my pubescent self to marvel at and slaver over.
De Carle’s was run by a little old lady in a blue overall, with a purple rinse. She was from out of town, i found out later she was from wigan. Her assistant here -and the brains behind the operation- was her son Rick. Rick was six foot tall, had mad frizzy hair and really badly crossed eyes. It was actually his shop, he knew where everything was and where to find it.
They had boxes of singles all over the shop, tons of stuff for a12 year old to ogle, mostly unknown to myself; pretty much anything you wanted. And if they didn’t, Rick would get it in for you. I was fascinated. This was the first paradise I ever discovered, before i went to senior school and accidentally discovered Probe.
I listened to Radio Luxembourg a lot when I was a kid, I liked the fact that they would play records that weren’t in the BBC top 20, records that I later found out were big hits in the USA and Europe. Once I’d started buying records for meself, when i was about 11, the gloves came off and nothing could stop me. It would be a slavish devotion that I could ill afford, or even understand what I was doing or where I was intending to go. Blind to the future or what laid in store. I embraced my new found obsession with aplomb.
Armed with 60p or so, i would make my way to De Carle’s – on occasion walking all the way from Speke, no mean feat for a 12/13 year old – eyes wide open and ready for anything. I never knew what I Wanted , just that I wanted it now. On my first forays, I had no idea what to buy, just the wide-eyed thrill of being there was in itself a huge reward.
Mony Mony by Tommy James And The Shondells is a spectacular moment in the history of pop. Tommy was an established star in his home country with a string of huge hits already under his ever swelling belt. A career that despite horrific treatment at the hands of his management and label soldiered on with hit after hit way into the 1970s.
Mony Mony had been a huge international smash upon its 1968 release, which made Number One in the UK twice during the summer of that year. In the USA, it signified the end of beat music, a point where white groups ceased aping uptempo soul music and began opting for something heavier, more exotic. It is the parting gasp, as Tommy takes the whole new concept of psychedelia and marries it to an already established template of soul based, frat party dance music. Here he issues a nonsense call and response of utterly inane, meaningless lyrics. Part gospel, part nursery rhyme. Wondrous, just as great pop music should be.
I found the single sometime in early 1974 in De Marle’s music emporium, one of those moments when that 60p was burning a hole in my teenage pocket and needed to be put to good use, no matter how. The copy I bought was an American 7″ on Roulette Records. Even by 1974 it had become a bona-fide classic. something that was still hammered on the radio. I could recall it with absolute joy from a jukebox as a six year old, when i was on holiday during its summer of glory .
I had no idea why i bought it, of course, other than to be different, to separate meself from all my mates and what they liked: Gary Glitter, Mud, The Sweet and the other big hitters of Seventies pop. In De Carle’s they had crates of American singles, all without centres. Through the middle of the box was a steel rod, which was padlocked to the back of the crate. You couldn’t take the record out of the box without undoing the padlock. First world security issues, seventies style.
I took the single out the bag and stared at it, pored over every word on both sides, it filled my heart with unbridled joy. It was the first US pressing i’d ever owned, it was incredible.
And this yarn would be that much less, perhaps even pointless if Mony Mony hadn’t been one of the most exciting records ever made. Proper thrill a second stuff, that you never want to end. Not only the parting breath of beat music but in its own beautiful way a bridge to the pop that would dominate the charts from 1969 onwards and into the following decade.
Once I’d discovered town, and more importantly punk and Probe, De Carle’s became less and less a fixture in my life. They no longer stocked the music my teenage, newly sophisticated self demanded and i moved on. One day, flying up St Marys Road on the 82c, I noticed it had closed, I felt a tinge of sadness for a huge moment in my short life that had disappeared, although I hadn’t been in there for years.
Record Store Day, no matter how well intended it began, is now a music biz swizz. The major labels have it by the balls, and it is a bit too much of an elitist ego trip for me. Record shops in this city do sterling service every single second that they are open and deserve everybody’s support all the year round. It’s not too much to ask. Bob Parker will be in Probe long after the dust has settled on every RSD, doing wonderful things in the name of love and music. Pay your homage every week. They need it every day.
Thanks. x
RECORD STORE DAY 2018.
bernie@happening-things.com 