WOO-HOO ! They All Sound The Same

Instrumentals are one of those things you either get or you don’t. If you love ‘em, there’s a seemingly endless treasure trove of gems; if they’re not your thing, the reaction to even a brief listening session is probably ‘they all sound the same to me’ (similar to a wine lover enthusing over individual characteristics and relative merits of different reds, while the rest of us file them all under ‘red wine’). But, hey, maybe it’s time to recognise that creating a simple instrumental that gets in your head and stays there without the help of a catchy lyric is actually an art form in itself – a fairly basic one, but all the better for it because it’s so easily accessible to both performers and audiences.

Undoubtedly the golden age of this particular art form was the early-to-mid 60s - after everyone realised they couldn’t be Elvis, and moved on to aspiring to be a Beatle, a Stone or the new Dylan. Even a small group with basic competency on guitar, bass and drums could get in the game – put together a simple musical workout in a familiar 4-chord / 12-bar format, then add a distinctive musical element or audio gimmick, shake it all up, and it’s done!. That's where the art was: working in a familiar structure, but being inventive enough to create something with a unique character or flavour. ‘They All Sound The Same’ isn’t necessarily wrong, but it misses the point: taken together, maybe they do all sound the same – individually, however, each may be familiar, but it's delightfully different from the rest. Does anyone listen to a Japanese haiku or a Shakespeare sonnet and complain that ‘it’s just like all the others’ because it has a set number of lines, follows a recognised structure or rhyme pattern, or deals with the same themes as everyone else? (Of course not - that’s serious art, isn’t it?)

Mainstream popular music in the late 50s / early 60s created quite an appetite for instrumentals amongst the record-buying public, and they regularly appeared in the best-seller charts. These records covered a whole range of styles, from seasoned jazz musos (e.g. Cannonball Adderly, Jimmy Smith) who scored a nice paydays by condensing a slice of their art into a bite-size 7” single, through to a small handful of mainstream artists who moved from hit singles into LPs to building brands that would sustain long-term careers (e.g. Duane Eddy, The Ventures). Combos like Booker T & The MGs provided a distinctive musical backbone for numerous other artists, and also had their own parallel career of big-selling instrumental singles and albums. And a few artists under the general heading of ‘instrumentals’ really deserve a category of their own: Link Wray’s distorted rumbling feedback guitar (file under ‘Link Wray’!), or Motown’s Jr. Walker, who took off when his records started to featured his rough-edged vocals, but at heart was a down-home wailin’ soul sax man.

Radio was still king for music lovers, and the multitude of crown prince ‘personality disc-jockeys’ were very fond of instrumentals – whether adopted as a dj’s ‘theme’, used as the background ‘bed’ for their talk-over patter or promotional messages, or filling leftover one-minute gaps before a scheduled news bulletin. Along the way, particular styles came into vogue for a short while - the surf and hot-rod theme produced some classic instrumental 45s, but soon lost focus under a wave of cash-in albums of sound-alike instrumentals by faceless session musos, with genuine innovator Dick Dale eventually being last man standing. 

So the term ‘Instrumental’ points to the tip of an iceberg that turns into a monster below the surface. And somewhere deep down, well-down the musical hierarchy below slumming-it jazzers, twangy LP maestros and Memphis hitmakers, were those small combos (typically a four piece band, usually with a guitar as the featured instrument, but sometimes featuring a sax or keyboard) toiling away on their own variation of that 4-chord /12-bar workout. This is where we should recognise the art and inventiveness that could take something that sounded like it was headed straight for the bin marked ‘All Sound The Same’, and either add the right ingredients and/or tweak the mixture until your ear started to get with the groove, then pick up the hook, and finally lodge the sound firmly in your brain before you could say ‘earworm’.

Part of the appeal is the uncomplicated music and unsophisticated immediacy of these records. Entry requirements were basic competency on the instruments and a drummer who could keep time; working out parts then practicing until it was ready to record was relatively quick - no need to do it over and over until the damn singer knows where to come in, and has learnt all the words (if he wants to be on it, let him play tambourine!). Once the tune was good to go, time in a local demo studio could be enough – no need for a producer or arranger, just an engineer who knew where to place the mics and how to add echo or reverb). This ease of entry probably accounts for the number of instrumental records released small independent labels in all regions of the US, often only heard by listeners to the local radio stations, until collectors discovered them decades later.

Some aspired to be disc of choice for the latest dance craze; others searched for that musical element or audio gimmick that would stand out from the rest – maybe a musical riff or instrumental flourish, or a distinctive (or just plain gimmicky) sound effect, which could also be used to ‘name that tune’. Adapting an easily recognised traditional tune or classical riff could also work - it made records instantly familiar to some listeners, and the performer’s own name could appear in the composer credits (Roll over Tchaikovsky – here comes B.Bumble!)

Some opted to use a simple vocal element, which had the advantage of giving radio listeners the name of the track so they could phone in and request it - or better still, go out and buy the record. Of course, if this was an established art form with a particular structure and conventions, this would probably have breached the rules – but, hey, (with apologies to The Surfaris!) opening your instrumental with a maniacal laugh and someone saying ‘Wipe Out!’ hardly qualifies as adding lyrics, does it? Same goes for two gems where the instrumental work is spiced up with a ‘vocal refrain’ of sorts:
'Woo Hoo' by The Rock-A-Teens (1959) is basically a strummed guitar pattern, a bit of a drum solo, and a vocal over the top that consists entirely of “Who-Hoo, Hoo-Hoo, Hoo!’’. Simple, but effective .... and very, very catchy. If there’s any subliminal message or hidden meaning here, it went straight over my head! 

(Maybe Brit-Poppers Blur's hit ‘Song 2’ almost 40 years later was paying homage, with its catchy chorus consisting entirely of the phrase ‘Woo Hoo’?)

'Move It' by The Chantays (1963) – the flipside of their massive surf-inspired best-seller ‘Pipeline’, which puts aside the shimmering layered sound of the hit side, and sounds something like an on-stage opener/ warm-up. The basic four chord workout has clattering drums, distorted bass-heavy guitar, and some bluesy keyboard; from somewhere at the back, the band call out names of dances like The Twist and Locomotion, add a few high-pitched yells, screams and encouragement to each other ("beat them keys!") .... then pause for someone to say ‘Move It!’. Described that way, it sounds a mess - but these rather basic components are assembled into a great little record!

There are literally hundreds of these records, many one-off non-hits or regional successes, probably long-forgotten by most people who heard them at the time, but maybe fondly remembered by a few whenever they have a random audio flashback of a catchy riff, memorable sound effect or gimmicky ‘vocal refrain’. Once you get a taste for them, and start to pick out the individual characteristics, you will find them as intoxicating as a cellarful of vintage red wine, and ‘They All Sound The Same’ will be a thing of the past ..........

WANT MORE ?

You can’t go wrong with the ‘Teen Beat’ CD series from Ace Records. Produced with their usual meticulous attention to sound quality and copious sleeve notes with many illustrations, one volume will leave you wanting more – and there are at least 5 in the series. Because a typical track clocks in under 3 minutes, you get a generous 30 tracks per disc. These mix familiar hits with lesser-known records from smaller labels that made a dent in the national charts. 

Strummin’ Mental : this is a good start point for the other end of the spectrum, the hundreds of guitar based instrumental groups that gained local airplay and regional success, but not that elusive hit record. Brimming with ideas and enthusiasm, not to mention great band names (let’s hear it for The Gamma Rays, The Ron-De-Voos and The Terry Tones!). These two CDs bring together 32 tracks each from the original four LPs (or maybe five ?) complied by Crypt Records of Germany.

Instrumentals Soul Style: these 2-CD sets collect together instrumentals with a more R&B, soul and jazz flavour. Typically recorded by artists or combos who were tight and professional from regular gigging. Some names you know, but with tracks you don’t often hear. Sound quality, booklet material and overall grooviness is on a par with Ace Records. See historyofsoul.net

Modern: there is a small but dedicated modern instrumental 

scene – look out for names like Los Straitjackets and Man or Astro-Man? The 12-track 1997 compilation CD ‘Surf Guitar Greats’ (on EasyDisc thru Rounder) is worth searching out.

Rest of The World:  when a chunk of the instrumental iceberg broke away and drifted across the Atlantic to UK and Europe, the resulting instrumental scene was slightly more formal. The artists sound and visual presentation tended to be more polished - probably because access to recording studios and record releases was dominated by a small number of conservative major labels who aimed product at the mainstream market, and instrumental recordings were typically by musicians who had grown up in an earlier era of dance bands or jazz combos, and aspired to a professional sound. Any equivalent of the US teenage garage-band energy and enthusiasm was focused firstly in the direction of skiffle, then distilled into the potent mixture that fuelled the explosion of ‘beat groups’. 

A notable exception was The Shadows, who started as backing group to teen idol Cliff Richard (a polite British answer to Elvis) then developed their own parallel and highly successful career of guitar-fronted instrumental hits – but performed in suits with co-ordinated foot movements, in the style of the Ventures. In fact, guitar-fronted instrumental groups modelled on the sound and look of The Ventures / The Shadows sprung up in all corners of the globe (although The Spotnicks from Sweden opted to wear futuristic spaceman suits!) - probably because local teens could emulate the entire look and feel without the need to sing in English.*  

* an interesting later development (if you still want more!) is the continued popularity of Shadows-influenced groups in Scandinavian countries - there are dozens of regularly-gigging bands, typically with names derived from Shadows hits or guitar styles, and featuring a front-line of Fenders. Their typical repertoire combines Shadows covers with their own Shadows and Surf-inspired compositions. There are numerous videos on You Tube – just search for ‘Rautalanka’ (‘Iron Wire’ in Finnish, the local name for the genre) and that will open the door to a fascinating scene where it looks like everyone is having a ball!