360: Dusty Springfield // Dusty Springfield's Golden Hits
Dusty Springfield's Golden Hits
Dusty Springfield
1966, Philips
These early Dusty Springfield singles really get the “Wall of Sound” production treatment, despite Mr. Spector’s absence from the credits: mixed loud as hell like the kids liked it, screaming string charts, backing vocals en regalia, and a big beat knocking around underneath. Folks love to cite her as the second artist of the British Invasion to hit the U.S. charts, and for cultural reasons that may be significant, but her early sound was indistinguishable from American acts like Lesley Gore and the Shirelles. I don’t know many of the details about her career, but it seems like whoever was managing her was hell-bent on breaking her in the States. Call it a credit to English ingenuity (and specifically arranger Ivor Raymonde) that they were able to give Springfield a knock-out sound that passes for the contemporary Hollywood (or Detroit) product.
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Dusty Springfield’s Golden Hits, her first major compilation, is Brill Building / girl group-style music par excellence, with a murderer’s row of hitwriters from both sides of the pond (Bacharach/David, Goffin/King, Beatrice Verdi/Buddy Kaye, etc.). Practically anyone could’ve had chart success with these songs and this packaging (and a number of these were subsequently hits for others), but Springfield had a cannon of a voice on her that makes the best of these numbers undeniable. Those who place her voice with the Arethas and Dionne Warwicks wish she’d been guided towards soul or sophisticated torch songs from the start, but I personally love it when someone vocally overqualified for bubblegum is made to tear into a good bop. “I Only Want to Be With You” is buffeted along by the force of her voice, the violins shrieking like a 33rpm record dragged up to 45; “Little By Little” could’ve been written for a Motown powerhouse like Darlene Love (but scarcely improved on by her); “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself” moves from the sound of a girl sadly combing her hair before her vanity to Sampson bringing down the temple.
There’s plenty of treacle here, and “Wishin’ and Hopin’” probably set feminism further back than “He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss),” but this is a worthy addition to any ‘60s pop library.
April 1935. Seeing people refer to Cardinal Richelieu as "the Catholic Darth Vader" (which seems entirely apt) brought to mind this 1935 movie with George Arliss. Largely forgotten today, Arliss was one of the most respected actors of his era, having had a lengthy career on stage and in silents before making his first talkie in 1929. Most of his talkie vehicles feature him as a cagy old Tory reprobate triumphing over his opponents through a combination of guile and charm, usually while also showing his support for #girlbossing by arranging an appropriate match for a young female protege — "appropriate match" in most cases meaning "a stalwart, none-too-bright young man of good prospects who can be made to do whatever she says." This is precisely the formula for CARDINAL RICHELIEU, which is based (loosely) on an old Edward Bulwer-Lytton play: Richelieu protects his protege (Maureen O'Sullivan) from the unwelcome attentions of the king (Edward Arnold), finds her a good (dumb) husband (Cesar Romero in one of his earliest featured roles), and saves France with his cunning stratagems. He's even a cat person, and his cat, Mistigris, features in a lot of the posters and promo images.
Arliss later reprised his role in CARDINAL RICHELIEU on THE LUX RADIO THEATRE in January 1939, reuniting most of the film cast. I think that might actually have been his final public performance; he was in his 70s by then, and his last movie role (in DR. SYN) had been in 1937.
CARDINAL RICHELIEU has nothing directly to do with THE THREE MUSKETEERS, but it should be mandatory viewing for people trying to adapt the latter, who often seem to struggle with the fact that while Richelieu is the central antagonist of the Dumas book, he isn't actually the villain of that story.