9 January : Suspicious Minds

As you’d expect, the singles charts in early 1970 were dominated by records released at the back end of 1969. And there was an eclectic selection, reflecting the wide variety of tastes of the record-buying public, everything from light entertainment stars (Engelbert Humperdink, Des O’Connor) to Jethro Tull. The presence of Tull, by the way, is impressive given that heads were more likely to be buying albums (or taping them).

The temptation, as I did with Abbey Road, is to pick out a record I like, or appreciate, and ignore the rest, and that would be easy to do. But not only do I think the eclecticism is important, digging under the surface starts to reveal things that you’d miss.

All of the chart companies agreed that the number one single in the first week of 1970 (and the week after) was Rolf Harris‘s Two Little Boys. Despite the derision of the music press who couldn’t understand who was buying it, Two Little Boys spent 40 weeks on the charts, 10 of those in the top 5 and 6 of them at number 1. Were it not for Rolf’s fall from grace, oldies stations would still be playing it now

The majority of the charts that week had at the number 2 spot Kenny Rodgers and the First Edition and Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town. A jaunty karaoke song, you might think, or one for a lounge singer. If you listen closely to the words, though, you find it is sung from the point of view of a perspective of a vet from an unspecified Asian war who is contemplating murdering Ruby:

It wasn’t me that started that old crazy Asian war
But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore
And yes, it’s true that I’m not the man I used to be
Oh Ruby, I still need some company

It’s hard to love a man whose legs are bent and paralyzed
And the wants and needs of a woman your age Ruby I realize
But it won’t be long, I’ve heard them say, until I’m not around
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town

She’s leaving now cause I just heard the slamming of the door
The way I know I’ve heard it slam one hundred times before
And if I could move I’d get my gun and put her in the ground
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town

Boom-chicka-boom; boom-chicka-boom.

Also in the top 5 of all the chart companies was Blue Mink and Melting Pot. Now, I remember Melting Pot as a heartfelt, if naïve, plea for racial harmony, to be achieved, in the spirit of the times, by multi-racial free love. In 2019, the UK regulator Ofcom upheld two complaints about the song after it was played on local radio. The complaints related to its ‘potentially offensive language.’ Contrary to how the decision was reported in the UK’s rabid right-wing press (echoed by commenters on YouTube), the decision is nuanced and might well have been different if the station provided some context for the original meaning of the song and its intent in the culture of 1969/70. You can find a fuller report of the decision here.

The song writers were Roger Cook and Roger Greenaway and the lyric to this (and Ruby, above, by Mel Tillis) are reproduced below to let you make up your own mind, which falls under the fair use exemption, I think.

Take a pinch of white man
Wrap it up in black skin
Add a touch of blue blood
And a little bitty bit of Red-Indian boy
Curly black ‘n’ kinkies
Mixed with yellow Chinkies, yeah
If you lump it all together
And you got a recipe for a get along scene
Oh what a beautiful dream
If it could only come true, you know, you know

What we need is a great big melting pot
Big enough enough enough to take
The world and all its got
And keep it stirring for a hundred years or more
And turn out coffee coloured people by the score

Rabbis and the friars
Vishnus and the gurus
You got the Beatles or the Sun God
Well it really doesn’t matter what religion you choose
Mick and Lady Faithful
And Mrs. Graceful
You know that livin’ could be tasteful
We should all get together in a lovin’ machine
I’d better call up the queen
It’ s only fair that she knows, you know, you know

What we need is a great big melting pot
Big enough enough enough to take
The world and all its got And keep it stirring for a hundred years or more
And turn out coffee coloured people by the score

A get-along scene in a lovin’ machine indeed.

The Melody Maker review of the album the song came from, (Blue Mink, 1969, re-released 1970 as Melting Pot), extolled the ‘wonderful music and singing’, declaring ‘the entire album is an unqualified success.’ The lyric of the title track drew no comment at all.

I’m not going to remark further here on the lyric because I’m pulling together material for more considered posts later in the year on related issues: shifts in language over half a century, and racism and sexism in that culture.

In the meantime, maybe it’s best to finish with an instrumental, in all of the top twenties of the week.