Part Three of the Worst Best Album Series
Forgetting 1965’s Worst “Best Album”
Of course, forgetting is remembering
1965, the year Malcolm X was gunned down in Harlem; the year Georgia beat Alabama in the opening game of the college football year on an illegal play. The year I turned nine.
So many fabulous albums came out that year, and according to the Cash Box/Billboard number, the #1 album of the year was…
I should make you guess.
While you’re working through all the possibilities (and no, it isn’t Sonny & Cher’s Look At Us, #25), I’ll go ahead and tell you that the #100 album that year was:
Burt Bacharach’s Burt Bacharach Plays His Hits.
He also ranked at #87 with What’s New Pussycat?
Another “Bert,” Bert Kaempfert, charted at #44 with Blue Midnight. I’m betting my parents had that record, since they loved that Bert, and were also fond of the other Burt. Actually, I’m fond of both, too, and make of that what you will.
I thought 1964 had some killer albums, but ’65 had these stellar recordings:
Herb Alpert’s The Lonely Bull at #36.
Herbie Hancock’s Maiden Voyage at #67.
Being named any variation of Herbert was a good thing.
The Hollies debut, The Hollies, at #62.
Them, Them, at #84.
The Rolling Stones’ December’s Children at #30.
The Who’s My Generation at #20,
AND
The Byrds’ Mr. Tambourine Man at #18.
You can see the full list here:
You’ll note that the afore-mentioned #1 record was something called Rubber Soul. I might have a couple of copies of it somewhere. And if I look hard enough, I’ll likely find that Byrds record, too.
I wonder if my parents had a copy of Sinatra’s September of My Years (#17)?
I doubt they had BB King’s Live at the Regal (#14), and we could have had The Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas (#12), but I suppose that our funds couldn’t embrace such seasonal faire.
What I’m sure we didn’t have is 1965's Worst Best album, even though we did own some other recordings by this particular artist:
Robert Goulet and his infamous
My Love, Forgive Me
which, at #50, placed one slot better than
Gerry & the Pacemakers’ Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey. That alone consigns the Goulet record to my personal album hell. How about you: Steven Hale and Alex Markham?
But there’s more, actually, the lyrics to that title song (co-written by Vito Pallavicini, Sydney Lee, and Gino Mescoli):
“My love, forgive me, I didn’t mean to have it end like this, I didn’t mean to have you fall in love, in love with me. My love, please kiss me, Arrivederci amore, kiss me, Remember when we part, you’ll have my heart, I love you so.”
So confusing. He calls the other his “love,” and claims not to have meant for her (or him) to fall for him.
Hhhhm.
Whatever could he mean? Does he love the other person or not? Why can’t he reciprocate the whole enchilada, or given the other language, the whole manicotti? Any help, Jessica Lee McMillan, Kevin Alexander, and Nicole Brown?
Oh, now I get it:
“It was just a slight flirtation, That was all it was to be, How could I know this fascination Would turn to love for you and me. How to tell you of my heartache? How to tell you I’m not free? How can I bear to see your heart break, To see your heart break over me.”
Just another affair — one where the instigator knew the terms beforehand and now is aghast that the innocent flirtation ended up here, with sauce dripping from someone’s lapel.
There are more lyrics, too, but they’re in Italian, and so, I’ll give in and simply link Goulet carrying on:
I made it through six seconds. Funny, and some people find Sonic Youth hard to take.
But plenty of people clearly loved the man, the singer, the sound, and perhaps even the sentiment echoed here, about unrequited adultery. Other songs on the album include “Quiet Nights and Quiet Stars,” “What Kind of Fool Am I?” and the follow up to the title song:
“Now That It’s Ended.”
The Goulet album my folks had was called I Remember You. Clearly, the narrative continues, and maybe we’ll meet that record down the line, some sunny day.
In the meantime, I keep wondering how Nat King Cole must have felt at year’s end, seeing that his Unforgettable charted only at #60, ten places behind the year’s Worst Best Album. What do you think Rob Janicke, Danielle Loewen, Paul Combs, Chris Zappa, Pierce McIntyre, and Sarah Paris?
Thanks for reading, and if you made it here, why not make it on over to The Riff’s Album Discussion this coming Sunday at 4:00 PM, EDT, when David Acaster will lead us in discussing Willie Nelson’s 1982 classic Always On My Mind? Here’s the zoom link:
ID: 82789673730 Passcode: /996|3xR
And in case you missed 1964’s Worst Best album: