Skip to main content

Samantha Jones – Don't Come Any Closer

There were several versions of some time Joe Meek and Burt Bacharach collaborator Charles Blackwell's mini Greek tragedy in words and music, but none can match the barely restrained melodrama of the 1965 original by the artist formerly known as Jean Owen.

Owen had started out as one of the Vernons Girls, the sixteen-piece female choir founded at the Liverpool-based football pools firm, who appeared on TV rock show, Oh Boy! in the late 1950s, and recorded albums for both Parlophone and Decca in a slimmed-down three-piece version.

Some former Vernons Girls went on to form splinter groups such as The Breakaways, The Pearls and The Ladybirds, the latter of whom provided backing vocals on Jimi Hendrix's Hey Joe before becoming stalwarts of The Benny Hill Show. Others married into rock and roll aristocracy, with The Breakaways Vicky Haseman wedding Joe Brown, while Joyce Smith got hitched to Marty Wilde, with both partnerships ensuring musical dynasties continued with Sam Brown and Kim Wilde respectively.

Owen, meanwhile, embarked on what would prove to be a peripatetic solo career in 1964. Rebranded as Samantha Jones, she announced herself to the world in a TV duet with Long John Baldry, had two of her vocal performances feature on the soundtrack of The Vengeance of Fu Manchu and went on to become a Northern Soul favourite with her upbeat 1967 single, Surrounded By A Ray of Sunshine.

A U.S. only debut album went largely un-noticed in 1968, before Jones went on to chart in Belgium and the Netherlands in a way that would have been ideal for Eurovision. She later popped up on the Morecambe and Wise Show, and had more success in Europe prior to working the cruise ship circuit.

It was Jones' second single, however, that should have really set 1965 alight. It starts as it means to go on, with an epic, kettle-drum led rendering of the chorus supported by equally strident backing vocalists warning her cheating beau to keep his distance. A moment of weakness follows as the song's protagonist steps back to contemplate the potential consequences of her own actions with a breathy moment of self-realisation which also sounds like a coy tease.

With such a high-pitched opening, it's as if the listener has stumbled into an argument that's already at full pelt before full exposition of the treacherous lover's crimes is delivered with hell-hath-no-fury defiance in the verses. These are sung directly to the villain of the piece without interruption, as couplets in a classic tragedy might be if they were accompanied by angry little castanet flourishes and a kitchen-sink arrangement punctuated by a solitary horn.

Jones' delivery is an impeccable mix of light and shade, one minute overwrought, the next regaining composure to tell it how it like it is before giving vent to barely controlled rage as the relationship roller-coaster goes off the rails once more.

One of the fascinating things about the song is the supporting narrative provided by the backing vocals, which are akin to a Greek Chorus. At first the female singers stand as one with their wronged best friend, providing girl-powered strength and support before hanging back during the first verse, presumably observing the to-and-fro of such a volatile monologue.

Their interjections during the second verse, however, suggests a more critical conspiracy. Not as emotionally caught up in the moment as their soul sister, they are able to see through her self-protecting litany to the mixed messages of something altogether more vulnerable and contrary (This was changed, interestingly, on Allison Durbin's more soft-centred and submissive 1968 version, which was a hit in New Zealand, and which transposed 'She' to 'I', suggesting the backing vocals were more the conflicting voices of an interior monologue).

With such a tug of love sealing the heroine's fate, even as a repeated 'Baby, Baby Go Away' attempts to ward off temptation, the song ends as it begins, on a Sisyphean loop of hurt, rejection and anger in this most highly-charged and criminally neglected of Brit-girl break-up classics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHbWXJ_I5_M

Product magazine, March 2015.
 
ends

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Maids

Dundee Rep

Two sisters sit in glass cases either side of the stage at the start of Eve Jamieson's production of Jean Genet's nasty little study of warped aspiration and abuse of power. Bathed in red light, the women look like artefacts in some cheap thrill waxworks horror-show, or else exhibits in a human zoo. Either way, they are both trapped, immortalised in a freak-show possibly of their own making.

Once the sisters come to life and drape themselves in the sumptuous bedroom of their absent mistress, they raid her bulging wardrobe to try on otherwise untouchable glad-rags and jewellery. As they do, the grotesque parody of the high-life they aspire to turns uglier by the second. When the Mistress returns, as played with daring abandon by Emily Winter as a glamour-chasing narcissist who gets her kicks from drooling over the criminal classes, you can't really blame the sisters for their fantasy of killing her.

Slabs of sound slice the air to punctuate each scene of Mart…

Phoebe Waller-Bridge - Fleabag

Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a busy woman. The thirty-two year old actress who burst onto our TV screens as writer and star of Fleabag, the tragi-comic sort of sit-com about a supposedly independent woman on the verge is currently overseeing Killing Eve, her new TV drama which she's written for BBC America. As an actress, Waller-Bridge is also filming a big screen project which we can't talk about, but which has already been outed as being part of the ongoing Star Wars franchise.

These are both pretty good reasons why Waller-Bridge won't be appearing in the brief Edinburgh Festival Fringe revival of the original stage play of Fleabag, when it opens next week at the Underbelly, where it was first unleashed to the world in 2013. In her place, Maddie Rice will take on the role of the potty-mouthed anti-heroine after touring Vickie Jones' production for Waller-Bridge and Jones' DryWrite company in association with Soho Theatre. This doesn't mean Waller-Bridge has turned…

The Divide

King's Theatre
Four stars

Everything is black and white in Alan Ayckbourn's new play, a six hour two part epic set in a dystopian future where men and women are segregated from each other following the aftermath of an unspecified plague. Into this landscape, the secret diaries of brother and sister Elihu and Soween are brought to life by Jake Davies and Erin Doherty with a wide-eyed lightness of touch as their hormones get the better of them when they both hit puberty.
Annabel Bolton's production for the Old Vic, EIF and Karl Sydow begins with a TED Talk type lecture that reveals the back story to how things turned out this way. It ends with a sentimental love story designed to tug the heart-strings. Inbetween, there is teenage rebellion aplenty against the regime's institutionalised repression. Liberation comes through art and sex, which, in such extreme circumstances become even greater life forces.

With both plays told through the siblings' diaries alongside ass…