School had just let out for summer in 1959 when our debut album was released. Let's All Sing With The Chipmunks was originally on red vinyl, which I thought was amazingly keen back then. (OK, I still think it's amazingly keen.) And the album became a surprise hit, reaching number four on the Billboard album chart. Back in 1959, albums were mainly an "adult" medium, with most of the top sellers being Broadway soundtracks and easy listening artists. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that so many people in the United States were buying our goofy little album. It even picked up a Grammy at the end of the year.
Once again, a cartoon drawing graced the cover. Simon and I look like genetic clones in our garish bow ties and jackets, waving our top hats and canes. Alvin looks only slightly different as he takes a knee, striking an Al-Jolson "oh Mammy" pose. In the background, a rather poorly-drawn David Seville conducts an unseen orchestra and bellows something at Alvin. In other words, the album jacket pretty much tells you what you're in for before you hear a note of it.
By the time the album was released, we had settled into a schedule. Every other Sunday, Dave would pick us up to drive us to Liberty Studios. He'd hand us the sheet music for a song or two that we'd be recording that day, and we'd rehearse on the car ride over. We no longer had to work out any of our arrangements. Everything, right down to the Alvin-Dave arguments, was already scripted out. We'd walk in, do a few takes, then go home.
And, as I had told Simon before, I didn't hate it. It was always fun singing with my brothers, and I didn't find any of the songs to be out-and-out terrible. But the basic thrill of recording had started wearing off. These weren't the songs I would've chosen to record if I had any say in things. Recording was getting to be a bit like a good high school class - you sort of enjoy it, but it's still something you're doing because you have to.
Once in a while, we did get to record songs that I actually liked. We had fun doing a song called "Alvin's Orchestra", which was released later (in 1960) as a single. We actually come up with the idea for that one while on the way home from a recording session.
"We were making quite a bit of money for Liberty Records," says Alvin, "but they were always looking for ways to cut corners. I remember Mr. Waronker complaining that Dave had put two trumpet players on a song - 'isn't one enough?' I said we should do a song about him called 'Penny Pincher.' My original idea was that over the course of the song, Mr. Waronker would send all of the session musicians home one by one, and the song would end with us three singing a cappella." Dave liked the idea, but he decided to revamp it to make it more like a standard Chipmunks song. In the final version, Alvin has supposedly hired a huge orchestra to play behind us, and Dave freaks out about how much it's going to cost.
Alvin lets loose with a rather weird spoken aside on that record, and I'll let him explain how it came about. "I had just read this dumb article about the state of popular music. 'This modern music is all garbage, things were much better before rock and roll', you know the type. And the author mentioned the Chipmunks by name. He said, 'their popularity is bewildering, since I absolutely cannot make out a single word they're saying.' And I told Dave, 'I should say that to you during the song'. You and Simon thought that was hilarious, so Dave decided to go along with it, and let me say that during the instrumental break."
One other song we got to play around with was "She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain". Simon recalls, "We had already completed a recording of the song, following the standard Chipmunks template. Alvin interrupts and suggests she might take a Chevrolet, Mr. Seville loses his temper, et cetera. But we were informed afterward that there had been an error in the master tape, rendering it unusable, which necessitated a re-recording. I took the opportunity to request that I be allowed to create a new arrangement. Since the recording date was a few weeks away, Mr. Seville told me to proceed, but warned that he could not promise that Liberty would use my arrangement."
For the next week or two, all of our rehearsal time was spent working on a new arrangement for "Mountain". And Simon turned to an unlikely source for inspiration. "The Mormon Tabernacle Choir had achieved a left-field hit around that time with their rendition of 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic'. I was quite taken by the extremely quiet introduction, which slowly built into this full choral piece. I decided I wanted to start 'Mountain' in much the same way, building to a crescendo, and then quietly fading out." Simon's arrangement also featured a shift into a bit of a rhythm and blues feel during the third verse. "To be honest, that was a limp attempt to camouflage the lyrics. The original lyric is 'we will kill the old red rooster when she comes'. On our lyric sheet, Dave had replaced the word 'kill' with 'ride'. I found the concept of us riding a rooster to be quite ludicrous, but he was adamant about that line. I felt shifting the feel of the backing music might obfuscate the lyrics at that troublesome spot."
Once we finished, we had Dave come into the basement to hear it - just us three with our guitar, bass and drum arrangement. He really enjoyed it, and agreed to record the song with that arrangement. He of course added more instruments, but Simon at least got to put his own personal stamp on that song.
"I was a bit too self-absorbed at the time to really think about this," Alvin admits, "but looking back, it's weird that Liberty didn't make much use of Simon. He had written that amazingly intricate pop song. True, it wasn't a good fit for us, but it should've been a hit for Johnny Mathis or someone. And then he did this great arrangement of 'Comin' Round the Mountain'. You'd think somebody at Liberty would have said, 'Hey, this chipmunk is a great songwriter and arranger. Let's put him to work for us.' But they just had him stand next to you and sing 'oo-wa' behind me on Chipmunks songs."
Simon just shrugs when asked about it today. "Had they approached me, of course, I would have attempted to write and arrange on demand. But they never did." Did that upset him? Simon shakes his head no. "It was an enjoyable diversion to write and arrange on occasion, but I never felt it to be my life's calling."
Liberty not only released "Mountain" as a single, but even put a second Chipmunks song on the flipside instead of the typical David Seville instrumental. "Sing a Goofy Song" is a pretty good example of most of the songs we were recording then. I liked the basic concept - "sing a goofy song to help get you through the day" - and I thought it might make a good tune for us three. But Dave insisted on singing lead on the first half, and then (yes) getting angry at us at the end. And that was often the way. Even when I liked some aspect of a song we were recording, it seemed like we were never going to get the opportunity to just sing.
The summer brought a couple of changes to our lives. Being the genius he was, Simon graduated from high school two years early. Although college was pretty much a given for him, he decided to forgo it for the time being so he could continue working on his music career. "We were selling very well then, and one must take advantage when conditions are favorable," he says. And had we been standard human pop stars, we probably would've spent the entire summer on promotional activities - playing sock hops, appearing in movies, and so forth. But Liberty seemed content to have us be a recording-only group. The only change in our schedule was our recording days were moved from Sundays to Tuesdays. It was strange being a bit "famous", and yet still being completely unknown. This was the time that I first started to feel a bit of a disconnect between myself and that voice on the records.
There were a few Chipmunks-related items available at that time besides our records. There was a picture book version of "Christmas Don't Be Late", featuring artwork by a not-yet-famous Richard Scarry. Liberty struck a deal with Dell, a comic book company, and a few issues of "The Three Chipmunks" hit the newsstands. I still have my copy of the first issue, in which Alvin sneaks a harmonica into a recording session. A comic retelling of the "Alvin's Harmonica" story, really. I remember Alvin complaining how little the comic book chipmunks looked like us - Simon and I were wearing red and pink vests, and Alvin had on a yellow striped shirt and fishing hat. "Had I known what was coming, I would've kept my mouth shut," says Alvin with a smirk.
With school over for the summer, Alvin quickly resumed his "hanging out" activities. And it probably wasn't more than a week into the vacation that he stopped showing up for our basement jam sessions. Simon and I were upset by this at first, but we quickly adapted. If Alvin didn't want to help out, so be it - we'd just work on our songs as a duo. In fact, Simon built himself his own electric guitar, so he wouldn't have to use the one he made for Alvin. It was blue (his favorite color), and it looked and sounded quite a bit better than the old yellow "cowboy" one that he had made for Alvin.
By early July, Simon and I had come up with a mid-tempo number we really liked. I kept the drum beats pretty measured, and Simon played some groovy guitar over top. We pictured having a horn player play a melody over top - either a saxophone or a trumpet. Since we didn't have a horn player handy, we just started singing some wordless vocals where we wanted the horn part to go. "Uh uh uh ah uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, do be ah." As we practiced it more, Simon and I would take turns adding "voice horn" solos to the song. One of us would sing "da da dwee ba, da da dwee ba" or whatever, imitating a trumpet solo. Just two musicians messing around, really, but it was a lot of fun.
Eventually, Simon got in touch with two great guys - Sascha Burland and Don Elliott. "I described the piece that we were crafting, and they immediately told me that they knew a bass player who would be ideal for the recording. They also promised to secure a trumpet or saxophone player for the rehearsal."
Later that week, Simon and I set up our instruments in a rehearsal space at Liberty. As Simon finished tuning, the door opened to reveal a tall thin man, carrying a stand-up bass. Simon waved to him, but he seemed reluctant to come all the way in.
"Uh, I was told to come for a jam session?" he asked.
"Yes," said Simon. "This is the correct room."
He still seemed unsure, but he at least entered the room all the way. Simon went on, "My name is Simon, and this is my brother Theodore." I waved my drumsticks at him.
The man introduced himself as Jack Six, then stopped. "Wait - Simon? Theodore? You guys those Christmas chipmunks?"
Simon frowned. "Yes. We were two of the singers of that holiday number."
"And now you're looking to jam?"
"Indeed. We have composed a skeletal jazz piece, but being novices to the idiom, we felt it prudent to consult with someone having more experience within that musical genre."
"...huh?"
I translated, "We don't know much about jazz, so we're asking you for help." Jack grinned, and so I explained the basic song concept to him. "It's kind of a slow shuffle, and we want to add bass and horn. Here - Simon and I will run through it for you."
We launched into the song, adding our vocalizing as we had been doing the last few weeks. Jack started laughing, and I was tempted to stop and tell him to get lost. But I quickly figured out he wasn't mocking us. He was just enjoying the groove that we were laying down. After the first few measures, he started playing along. It wasn't difficult, as the chord progression was pretty simple, and we were telegraphing our chord changes pretty well.
When we were about halfway through, the door opened again. I glanced up, assuming that it was the horn player. Instead, Mr. Burland and Mr. Elliott quietly slipped into the room. Mr. Burland excitedly spun his finger in a circle, indicating for us to keep going. So I sort of blocked them out, and continued on with my drumming and "doo wah"-ing.
When we finished, Jack laughed some more. "That's one fun little number you got there."
My smile got wider. I loved the piece myself, but it was especially gratifying to hear another musician say so. "Thanks! We're still not sure if that should be a sax or trumpet part, but we have someone coming any minute, and once he's here..."
Mr. Burland interrupted me. "Actually, you don't. We were stopping in to tell you that Fred had to cancel."
I frowned. "Well, heck."
Mr. Burland said, "But I'm not so sure you need one."
Simon looked up at him through his big glasses. "How do you mean?"
Mr. Elliott jumped in. "Your voices are far more distinctive than any horn part would be."
Jack nodded, leaning against his bass. "The song's groovy just like it is."
I looked at Simon and he looked at me. Simon asked, "You mean, with our vocal taking the melody?"
"You swap out your vocals with a horn," Mr. Burland said, "and you just have a nice little jazzy pop number. But with you two scatting over it..." He smiled. "...it's something special."
Again, Simon and I exchanged glances, but this time, Simon shrugged. "I defer to your expertise."
Jack looked over at me, and I said, "You guys know better than us."
Simon continued talking to Jack. "I shall endeavor to schedule a recording session. Might we rely upon your assistance?"
I started to translate, but Jack held up his hand. "Nah, I got that - I know when someone's offering me a gig in every language."
"And let us know if Liberty doesn't want it," added Mr. Elliott. "Because I bet we can find somebody else who would."
We exchanged phone numbers, and a few days later, Jack met us at a small studio in Los Angeles that he had recommended. Simon had an hour booked, and we were prepared to slog through all sixty minutes trying to get a good take. On the first run-through, Simon and I took turns "soloing" with our wordless vocals, and we also tossed in a few random jazzy phrases - "groovy!", "too much!" As we tried holding the last note, we both dissolved into giggles, as the whole things seemed so silly. I still managed to finish with a quick drum fill, though.
Jack smiled at us, leaning on his bass a little. "You did it."
Simon half-smiled back. "Thank you. I believe a subsequent take would enable me to strengthen the guitar part..."
Shaking his head, Jack said, "Don't bother. The magic was in that one."
We had the engineer play it back for us, and we decided Jack was correct. "It isn't perfect, but it's right," as the saying goes. We spent the next half hour or so trying to come up with a title for it, which means the song actually took longer to name than it did to record. We finally just settled on "Uh-Oh", since it was the vocalization we made the most during the song.
Once we got home from the session, Simon took me up to the treehouse. "Listen," he told me. "Do not divulge our activities of today to anybody. Not to Dave, not even to Alvin."
"Why not?"
"I believe it would be prudent to remain silent about it for the time being. We are rapidly approaching the end of the current term of our contracts, and I am concerned that knowledge of this recording might hamper the negotiations."
I wasn't sure why that was, but as always, I trusted Simon. So I agreed to stay mum about it. "They know we've been working on this song, though."
"That knowledge is immaterial. We may continue developing other music in addition to 'Uh-Oh'. But please, not a word about the recording." He stopped and regarded me for a moment. "Have you revised your opinion about the quality of the Chipmunks recordings?"
I thought for a second, then shrugged. "They're still OK. I'd much rather do more stuff like 'Uh-Oh', though..."
"Obviously. But what if you had the ability to opt out?"
"Opt out?" I echoed. "You mean, stop recording?"
"Not entirely. Just forgo participating in any Chipmunks recording you chose not to sing."
I mulled that over. "So then I'd just sing on the stuff I really wanted to?"
"Precisely."
"Yeah, that'd be swell. How are you gonna swing that, though?"
Simon smiled a bit, his eyes twinkling through his glasses. "Leave that to me."
