The Man Who Tried to Kill Rock and Roll

Mitch Miller could have been known as the man who signed Elvis, the man who gave us Aretha, the man who cashed in on the Beetles.  Instead, Miller (as head A&R man at Columbia Records when these opportunities came along) chose groups more to his own liking, including collections of his own productions under the "Sing Along With Mitch" brand (it would later be the name of his TV show as well).

This album, "MORE Sing Along with Mitch," is nearly unlistenable.  The style might best be described as barbershop quartet meets college a capella, tinged with a taint of nostalgia, and glazed over with a brown sauce.  Here you will find Miller and his ensemble crooning over such chestnuts as "Pretty Baby," "Sweet Adeline," "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," and "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling."  Get the picture?

Here's a cut from the first "Sing Along with Mitch" album.  A few seconds should be enough to give you the idea:

Miller was fully committed to the idea that his music was for others to sing along, too, so he included the lyrics to each song on the back of the album.  Similarly, on his TV shows, he would have the song lyrics scroll across the screen for viewers to join in.  Perhaps the viewer's own dulcet tones might drown out the morose sounds of Miller and Gang.  One can only hope.

Here's the opening of one of these shows.  Again, seconds will be enough:

Now, keep in mind that this was 1963.  Here are some of the OTHER songs you might have listened to in 1963:

"It's My Party (and I'll cry if I want to) [Leslie Gore]
"Heat wave" [Martha and the Vandellas]
"My Boyfriend's Back [The Angels]
"One Fine Day" [The Chiffons]
"And Then He Kissed Me" [The Crystals]

and the inspiration of much of this,
"Be My Baby" [The Ronettes]

Thank goodness for Phil Spector!  Thank goodness for the lyric writers in the Brill Building!

What strikes me most is that it is in this moment--this contrast between Miller's rendition of "Purple Rose of Texas" and the Ronettes' hit--shows how large the generation gap had grown in the early 60s and how teen popular music was headed one way while the nostalgic Miller was pushing another way completely.  Miller's Sing Along Hour was broadcast opposite a young Dick Clark's new American Bandstand (where this clip of the Ronettes comes from, I believe).

Defending his refusal to embrace Rock and Roll in his role at Columbia, Miller explained,  "Rock 'n' roll is musical baby food: it is the worship of mediocrity, brought about by a passion for conformity."  One music historian writes, "Miller exemplified the worst in American pop. He first aroused the ire of intelligent listeners by trying to turn — and darn near succeeding in turning – great artists like Sinatra, Clooney, and Tony Bennett into hacks. Miller chose the worst songs and put together the worst backings imaginable – not with the hit-or-miss attitude that bad musicians traditionally used, but with insight, forethought, careful planning, and perverted brilliance."  


Fortunately, for all of us, the line of history that ran through Miller slowly dimmed to the near dead-end of Lawrence Welk, perhaps only living on today in the ubiquitous musak that plagues us at the dentist's office.  


But Miller's failure (which, given the number of records he sold, is perhaps not a failure in many respects) to see where the future of music was going (or to participate in it) does not necessarily undermine his criticism of the genre of rock 'n roll.  Certainly Miller isn't the only one to criticize Rock's lack of substance ("baby food"), and who could argue with the contention that much of what qualifies for the Billboard Top 40 these days has a great deal to do with conformity (even the conformity of being a rebel of a certain, commodified sort).  How Miller is fighting against the pablum of social conformity with his rendition of the following lyrics, however, is unclear:


"Nights are long since you went away
I think about you all thru the day
My buddy, my buddy
No buddy quite so true
Miss your voice the touch of your hand
Just long to know that you understand
My buddy, my buddy
Your buddy misses you."


As social critique, this hardly gains much traction.  The music that did Miller in spoke of the need for nice boyfriend, the freedom of having a car, the pains of unrequited love, first kisses, and hot weather.  With this as a sound track, the American teen-ager emerged as one of the largest group of consumers the world had ever known.  Perhaps Miller was on to something.  But, with tunes like these, who--really--would care to listen?