The world of music history is filled with artists who blaze brightly and then fade, leaving behind a single, unforgettable track. These one-hit wonders occupy a fascinating space, evoking both admiration for their fleeting moment of glory and perhaps a touch of melancholy for what might have been. Among these artists, The Chords stand out, not just for their massive hit, “Sh-Boom,” but for the complex story behind its success and the unfortunate circumstances that prevented them from achieving further recognition.
The Chords performing doo-wop music
“Sh-Boom” wasn’t just any hit; it was a cultural milestone. As the first rhythm and blues record by a Black group to break into the Billboard pop chart’s top ten, it arrived at a pivotal moment in music history, challenging the racial barriers of the 1950s music scene. To understand its impact, we need to delve into the workings of the Billboard charts of that era and the social context that shaped its reception.
Unlike today’s charts, which heavily rely on sales and streaming figures, the Billboard charts in the 1950s were a more intricate industry barometer. They combined data from record sales, jukebox plays, radio airplay, and other metrics, categorized by genre based on radio station formats. This meant separate charts for country, R&B, and pop music, reflecting radio segregation and genre definitions of the time. The “Hot 100” was then compiled as an aggregate of these genre charts, creating a “chart of charts.”
This system sometimes produced unusual results, with songs appearing on multiple genre charts simultaneously. “Pop” music in the early 50s was distinctly defined as music by white artists for a white, suburban audience. The dominant sounds were polite, middle-class tunes by artists like Eddie Fisher, Doris Day, Perry Como, and Rosemary Clooney – pleasant but largely devoid of the energy and danceability that would soon define rock and roll. Teenagers and dance music were notably absent from the pop charts, a stark contrast to the swing era’s big bands and a reflection of a post-war “return to normalcy” that sought to erase Black and working-class influences.
Post-World War II America, particularly white middle and upper-working classes, yearned for a reconstructed “normalcy” after decades of upheaval. This ideal often involved ignoring the significant demographic shifts of the era, including the migration of Black Americans to northern cities and poor white populations moving westward. However, these marginalized groups were finding their voices and seeking their place in this evolving society. Black communities, despite facing economic setbacks after the war boom, had experienced a taste of economic mobility and were increasingly motivated to fight for social change.
The pop charts catered to an advertising-driven, suburban ideal, while the “other” charts, particularly R&B, became the breeding ground for musical innovation. Early rock and roll, in its essence, was a fusion of diverse musical elements – a “mash-up” of genres and styles. This willingness to blend and experiment distinguished true innovators from mere copycats. The margins, not the mainstream, became the fertile ground for rock and roll’s revolutionary sound.
Doo-wop emerged from this vibrant R&B scene, primarily in the Northeastern United States. It was a vocal style built upon the foundation laid by groups like The Ink Spots, characterized by four or more singers, a prominent bass vocalist uttering nonsense syllables (“doo-wop,” “bom bom ba dom”), a high tenor lead vocalist, and supporting harmonies. While jump bands and western swing were West Coast phenomena, doo-wop took root in cities like New York, Washington D.C., and later, New Jersey.
The Ravens are often credited as the first “bird group” and a pivotal influence on doo-wop. They refined the Ink Spots’ “top and bottom” vocal structure, creating more interplay between high and low voices, as heard in “You Foolish Thing.” Their uptempo tracks, like “Rock Me All Night Long,” showcased the bass singer in the lead, expanding the style’s versatility. The Ravens’ influence spawned a wave of bird-named vocal groups like The Orioles, The Flamingoes, The Penguins, and The Wrens, solidifying doo-wop’s growing popularity.
The Orioles’ “It’s Too Soon To Know” is another song often cited as a potential “first rock and roll record,” though its sound remains closer to the Ink Spots’ ballad style. However, “Gee” by The Crows, another bird group, marked a more definitive step in doo-wop’s evolution. Released in 1953 and becoming a hit in 1954, “Gee” showcased doo-wop in its fully realized form. Its impact was profound, particularly on young California teenagers exposed to Johnny Otis’s radio show. Frank Zappa and The Beach Boys, among others, later recorded their own interpretations of “Gee,” highlighting its unique and somewhat quirky sonic qualities. “Gee” is also recognized as the first R&B record to significantly cross over to a white teenage audience. Doo-wop, with its focus on adolescent themes, became the first R&B subgenre to resonate with this burgeoning demographic seeking a music of their own.
While “Gee” deserves its own deep dive into its historical importance, The Crows remained a one-hit wonder, fading quickly after their initial success. The same could be said of “Sh-Boom” and The Chords, but with a crucial distinction. “Gee” marked doo-wop’s commercial breakthrough with white audiences, while “Sh-Boom” became a song where white appropriation and industry practices overshadowed the original Black artists’ success.
Vintage vinyl record of Sh-Boom by The Chords
The Chords, while not a bird group, embodied the spirit of early doo-wop. “Sh-Boom” itself, despite its massive impact, was not initially intended as a hit. Released on Atlantic Records’ subsidiary, Cat Records, it was reportedly disliked by Atlantic executives and was initially relegated to a B-side. It was only through persistent radio DJ play that the song gained traction.
“Sh-Boom”‘s arrangement was crafted by Jesse Stone, likely focusing on the instrumental aspects, as the song’s origins were deeply rooted in The Chords’ own creativity. The group members themselves wrote the song, drawing inspiration from their everyday slang and experiences. Buddy McCrea of The Chords explained that “boom” was a common slang term among them, while Jimmy Keyes described how they transformed the word into the onomatopoeic “shhhhhh-BOOM.” Even the seemingly nonsensical “a langala langala lang” lyrics held personal meaning, referencing church bells, while other parts alluded to “Bip,” a homeless uncle of band members Carl and Claude Feaster, whose visits were announced by the phrase “here comes Bip, a flip a dooba dip” due to his distinctive odor.
This personal, almost inside-joke quality of the lyrics, while seemingly gibberish to outsiders, likely contributed to the song’s charm and appeal. However, this was not universally appreciated. Satirist Stan Freberg created a parody of “Sh-Boom,” pairing it with an imitation of Marlon Brando, mocking both for perceived unintelligibility. This reaction also hinted at an undercurrent of racism, with some interpreting the nonsensical lyrics as a coded message, particularly with sexual undertones, a recurring theme in the prejudiced reception of Black music.
However, the use of nonsense lyrics has a long and rich history in music, predating scat singing and Louis Armstrong. Traditional folk music is replete with examples of seemingly meaningless syllables like “too ra la loo ra la loo ra la lay.” One theory suggests this practice may stem from Gregorian chants and similar religious music forms in the Middle Ages. Listeners unfamiliar with Latin texts in motets might have perceived them as gibberish interspersed with understandable vernacular lyrics, leading to the acceptance of nonsense syllables as a natural part of songwriting. Even the lyric “hey nonny” in “Sh-Boom” potentially connects to this ancient folk tradition.
Following “Sh-Boom,” doo-wop and R&B embraced nonsense syllables wholeheartedly. This trend became so pervasive that by 1961, Barry Mann playfully questioned it in his song “Who Put the Bomp.” Doo-wop, initially a Black teenage musical expression, gradually saw an influx of Italian-American teenagers in the same Northeastern urban centers.
Despite the cultural impact of “Sh-Boom,” The Chords’ version isn’t the one most widely remembered today. If you have a vague familiarity with the song, perhaps from a movie soundtrack, the version you’re likely thinking of is subtly different. That’s because the more commercially successful rendition of “Sh-Boom” belongs to The Crew Cuts.
To understand this, we must consider the case of “A Little Bird Told Me.” Paula Watson, a Black artist on Supreme Records (a Black-owned label), originally recorded the song, which reached number two on the R&B charts and number fourteen on the bestseller charts. Subsequently, Evelyn Knight, a white artist on Decca Records, released her version of “A Little Bird Told Me,” which soared to number one on the pop charts. The striking similarity between the two recordings prompted Supreme Records to sue Decca for copyright infringement, arguing that Knight’s version was a direct copy.
This case brought to the forefront the crucial distinctions between a song, a recording, and an arrangement in music copyright law. A song comprises the melody and lyrics, copyright protected by the songwriter and publisher. Once published, anyone can record or perform the song, paying royalties to the copyright holders. However, in the US at the time, sound recordings themselves lacked federal copyright protection until the 1970s.
Arrangement, encompassing the stylistic choices in performing a song (tempo, instrumentation, groove), existed in a legal gray area. Prior to the “A Little Bird Told Me” case, arrangements were generally assumed to be copyrightable. However, the court ruled otherwise, setting a precedent that arrangements and grooves were not protected by copyright. This legal interpretation persisted until the “Blurred Lines” case in 2018, which revisited the issue of arrangement plagiarism.
This legal precedent had two significant detrimental effects, disproportionately impacting Black musicians. Firstly, it allowed for the theft of grooves and musical feels. White artists could replicate the rhythmic essence of Black music, create new songs with different melodies and lyrics, and avoid copyright infringement. Genres rooted in groove, often pioneered by Black artists, became more vulnerable to appropriation than melody-driven genres typically associated with white artists. Bo Diddley’s iconic “Bo Diddley beat” serves as a prime example of a rhythmic innovation widely adopted by white artists without proper attribution or compensation.
Secondly, it opened the door for white artists to create near-identical covers of Black artists’ hits, often achieving greater commercial success due to the racial biases within the music industry. Previously, covers typically involved stylistic reinterpretations. Now, white artists could directly replicate the arrangements of Black artists’ songs, benefiting from major label resources and radio access often denied to Black artists on smaller independent labels. This led to a systematic appropriation of Black musical innovation, depriving Black artists of deserved recognition and financial rewards.
While in many cases, the original Black versions of songs have endured in cultural memory (e.g., Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” overshadowing Pat Boone’s cover), “Sh-Boom” remains an unfortunate exception. The Crew Cuts, a white Canadian vocal group, specialized in creating near-verbatim copies of Black artists’ songs, consistently achieving greater mainstream success. Their version of “Sh-Boom,” despite lacking the original’s vibrancy, became the dominant version in popular culture.
Vintage vinyl record of Sh-Boom by The Chords
The Chords, despite the success of “Sh-Boom,” never achieved another hit. Legal battles over their name, forcing them to briefly perform as the Chordcats, further hampered their momentum. While reunions occurred over the years, they could not recapture the magic of their initial breakthrough.
The Crew Cuts, in stark contrast, enjoyed a string of hits by replicating songs by Black artists like The Penguins, Gene and Eunice, Nappy Brown, and Otis Williams and the Charms. They even infamously suggested that these Black artists should be grateful for the “exposure” provided by their cover versions – a blatant display of the era’s racial inequalities within the music industry. The story of “Sh-Boom” and The Chords serves as a potent reminder of the complex interplay of musical innovation, racial dynamics, and industry practices that shaped the early days of rock and roll, and the enduring legacy of a song that, in two versions, continues to resonate today.
Discover more from A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs
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