Although quite far afield from our current pop charts, Bobby Darin and Johnny Mercer were once thoroughly of the commercial mainstream. However, their full-length collaboration, originally released on Atco in 1961, finds the pair in a nostalgic and jocular mood. Loaded with older tunes and a theatrical, at times vaudevillian rapport, Two of a Kind succeeds through expert delivery, obvious mutual respect, the bulls-eye backing of Billy May and His Orchestra, and the production expertise of Ahmet Ertegun. On March 24, it gets a fresh and long-delayed expanded CD reissue via Omnivore Recordings.
Waxing autobiographical as a record reviewer can be a dangerous move (though rock scribes have often successfully flouted the “rule” against it), but in considering Two of a Kind’s saturation of personality it feels appropriate to plunge deep into the realm of the first-person. And so; allow me to confess that pre-rock pop vocalizing in the big band mode has never been my favorite scene, and has in fact persistently nagged around the edges of blind spot.
There are of course exceptions, most of them jazzy and female, but the flat fact is I’ve never been that enthusiastic over Bing. Or Sinatra. Or Bennett. Or Dean (sorry, Nick Tosches). Or Torme. Though I do like Louis Prima, especially with Keely Smith (that better, Nick?) And hey, as relevant to this piece, I’ve long been fond of Bobby Darin.
Due to his early hits, Darin is sometimes pegged as a rock ‘n’ roll-era figure who broadened his horizons upon youth music’s decade-closing stumbling block, but he was actually a singer-songwriter, and a solid one at that; “Splish Splash” was reportedly co-written on a dare, and “Dream Lover” stands up as a likable example of ’50s teen pop crooning.
Not only singer-songwriter but student of pop’s elevated form; “Mack the Knife” and “Beyond the Sea” were his transitions into big band, and they’ve held up even better. Written by Kurt Weill and Jack Lawrence (with music by Charles Trenet) respectively, both can be viewed as examples of an artist digging into the songbook, a maneuver that extended to Darin’s ’59 LP That’s All. Said album opened with the combo punch of the above singles.
This sort of pop sensitivity was a deep part of Johnny Mercer’s nature, though he was decidedly of the old-school. How much? Well, as he praised the great actor and occasional singer Robert Mitchum in his sleeve notes for the 1967 Monument LP That Man, Robert Mitchum, Sings, Mercer halted his gushing to add: “If I sound like a ‘fag,’ sue me.”
That blatant faux pas aside, Mercer aged rather gracefully, lacking bitterness as his brand of songwriting was overtaken by rock and less refined pop styles. Helping matters was his versatility; not just a great lyricist and appealing vocalist, he was additionally an entrepreneur, having helped found Capitol Records in 1943. Mercer was also unhesitant to express admiration, in fact complimenting Darin in his evaluation of Mitchum mentioned above.
This brings Two of a Kind a seedling of likeability right at its conception. Eschewing any inkling of worshipfulness or even a hackneyed mentor/ protégé dynamic, instead we have a clear sense of mutual appreciation, a quality that helps the set’s calculatingly informal atmosphere, exemplified here by the opening false start on the Mercer/ Darin composition “Two of a Kind.” It evades mere shtick to go down with casual panache.
Another key element in the disc’s success is Billy May and his crack band. This album catches May fresh off his significant achievements with Sinatra and Nat King Cole, and the bright, hard-hitting swing he commands is essential to Darin and Mercer’s conversational enlivening, complete with scat exchange, of the chestnut “Indiana.” It’s one in a slew of well-considered selections from the heyday of the Tin Pan Alley that alternate here with tunes co-credited to Mercer, e.g. the playfully sophisticated whistle and joke fest “Bob White.”
It’s “Ace in the Hole” that finds the pair delving deepest into comedic territory, the singers bantering as Darin dishes impressions of W. C. Fields and Groucho Marx. To call the humor corny is not inappropriate, and surely modern listener’s mileage will vary. But for this regular big band agnostic, it’s hard to not smile as Mercer and Darin unfurl routines and dust off classics not for the museum but for the family-room hi-fi.
It’s worth stressing that many of these tunes were certifiably old in ’61 (“Indiana” dates from 1917), by “East of the Rockies” is of ‘40s vintage, and May and band swing the hell out of it. The ’40s were probably Mercer’s strongest decade (though the song belongs to Sid Robin and Lou Singer), so it’s no surprise that he belts it out like a champ.
For that matter, nor is it a shock that Darin hangs with him throughout, with their tag team on Mercer’s “If I Had My Druthers” a standout. I leads into the upbeat chattiness of “I Ain’t Gonna Give Nobody None of My Jellyroll” and the bluesy but refined “Lonesome Polecat,” capping the album’s strongest stretch with a bit of Mercer-penned contempo verve.
“My Cutey’s Due at Two-To-Two Today” is another chestnut given a lyrically up-to-date spin as Two of a Kind sets aside Mercer’s songs until the inevitable return of the title track for the finale. In their place is “Medley: a) Paddlin’ Madelin’ Home b) Row Row Row,” it’s vaudeville aura deepened by Darin’s Jimmy Durante impression.
If the record has a problematic section, it’s here, but the linguistic workout “Who Takes Care of the Caretaker’s Daughter” sets thing right, with Darin’s mimicry of Elvis going down much smoother. It’s important to stress the comedic facet as a recurring one, shaping “Mississippi Mud” and the dialogue leading into “Two of a Kind.” Notably, the original liners were written by Stanley Green, credited as the author of The World of Musical Comedy.
I prefer Omnivore co-founder Cheryl Pawelski’s notes, which detail this expanded reissue as completing a project started during her days at Rhino. The sheer enthusiasm of her words is frankly a bit infectious, and they surely lessened a touch of trepidation as I approached this disc. But in the end it was Bobby Darin and Johnny Mercer who won me over.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
