Contributor
Other segments from the episode on January 26, 2024
Transcript
DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
PETER SCHICKELE: Well, hello there, everybody. This is your friendly professor, Peter Schickele.
BIANCULLI: The composer, musician, author and comedian Peter Schickele died last week. He was 88 years old. Schickele had a serious background in classical music. He played the bassoon and got a master's degree in music from the Juilliard School and even taught there. Over his long career, he composed more than 100 serious musical works, symphonies, choral and chamber works, and solo instrumentals. He also wrote for film and the theater. He supplied songs for the infamous Broadway musical "Oh! Calcutta!" and wrote the music for the cult science fiction movie "Silent Running," which included songs sung by Joan Baez.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "REJOICE IN THE SUN")
JOAN BAEZ: (Singing) Fields of children running wild in the sun. Like a forest is your child growing wild in the sun.
BIANCULLI: But Peter Schickele was best known for concocting, presenting and performing the works of P.D.Q. Bach, whom Schickele claimed was the youngest and oddest of Johann Sebastian Bach's 20-odd children. Schickele, claiming to be a musicologist, would perform premieres of newly unearthed works by P.D.Q. Bach, works which demonstrated both Schickele's talents as a composer and arranger and his shamelessly childish sense of humor.
P.D.Q.'s first work performed onstage in 1965 was called "Concerto For Horn And Hartart." An album was released that same year, launching a parody mini-empire that ended up eclipsing Schickele's more serious work. But Schickele had only himself to blame. His hilarious P.D.Q. Bach compositions included his "Unbegun Symphony," a mini-opera called "The Civilian Barber" and a parody of the madrigal "My Bonny Lass She Smileth," which in Schickele's hands or P.D.Q. Bach's became "My Bonnie Lass She Smelleth."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "MY BONNIE LASS SHE SMELLETH")
JOYFUL NOYSE: (Singing) My bonnie lass, she smelleth, making all the flowers jealouth (ph). Fa, la, la, la, la. Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la.
BIANCULLI: Schickele turned author in 1976, publishing a full-length biography of his nonexistent alter ego. Fittingly, it was dedicated to two musicians and composers, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Spike Jones. Classical and comedy influences ran throughout the works of P.D.Q. Bach, whether in his Philip Glass parody called "Einstein On The Fritz" or his strangely familiar overture "1712" for a really big orchestra.
(SOUNDBITE OF PETER SCHICKELE AND THE GREATER HOOPLE AREA OFF-SEASON PHILHARMONIC'S "1712 OVERTURE, S. 1712")
BIANCULLI: Terry Gross spoke with Peter Schickele in 1985.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR BROADCAST)
SCHICKELE: Basically, what I am is a composer. And I think that P.D.Q. Bach grew very gradually. It did not start with a career in mind at all. It was something that started with friends in a living room in Fargo, N.D. And then it started semi-publicly as concerts put on at Juilliard and also at Aspen in the summer for fellow faculty and students. And then finally in 1965, the first real public performance. And it was never planned, you know, it just sort of happened in the beginning. But in retrospect, it seems very obvious to me that this is a prime example of the thing that has always seemed true to me, and that is that most satirists make fun of what they like, not what they don't like.
I think it's no accident that Spike Jones, who was the granddaddy of it all for me - I was a Spike Jones freak when I was a kid. His - the water he swam in was the '30s and '40s big band style, dance band kind of thing. He even put out records with Spike Jones and his other orchestra that were straight without comedy. And since Bach and Mozart are two of my absolute favorite composers, there's an affinity there, a stylistic affinity, that is the only reason that, decades later, I'm still having fun doing this.
TERRY GROSS: You grew up in Ames, Iowa, and in Fargo, N.D. Was there much of a classical music scene in either of those two places?
SCHICKELE: Well, we moved from Ames when I was 8 years old. I don't have any particular memory of that. I wasn't particularly interested in music as a kid. I was not a prodigy at all. I didn't get interested in music really at all until I was 12, 13. We lived for four years at the end of World War II in Washington, D.C., and then I moved to Fargo. And it was then that I got interested in music, partly because Spike Jones had such a wonderful stage show. I was very theatrically inclined. I was much more interested in theater than music when I was 11 years old.
And it was really in an imitation of a Spike Jones stage show that I put together the first little band I was in. It was a four-man band called Jerky Jems and his Balmy Brothers. It featured two clarinets, violin and tom-tom. But during the teenage years, what happened was that I got just more and more involved in the music for its own sake and less and less in the theater. My memories of Fargo are extremely lively. My brother was and is a fanatic chamber music player, and he was always talking kids into coming over and playing quartets. Not only that, but among the adults, some of our best friends were the conductor of the community orchestra, which, by the way, in 1950 played Massenet (ph).
And we were getting together at home playing the Schubert two-cello quintet and the Mozart and Beethoven quartets particularly, and also the Brahms sextets and quintets. And it's not what people associate with Fargo, N.D., at all. It was a very lively scene. And when I went east to go to college, first to Swarthmore College and then to Juilliard, I was - I've always kept that sort of amateur standing along with my professional standing, in the sense that I still love writing rounds to be sung at parties, and a lot of my best pieces started out as birthday presents for somebody or something like that. And that very much comes from that atmosphere of Fargo.
GROSS: What kind of music do you think you were going to compose when you first went to Juilliard?
SCHICKELE: Well, I assumed that I would end up being a college teacher or something and writing. I mean, I knew what I wanted to do was write, and that's sort of the way you made your living in those days if you were going to be a composer. I think that my - I've always been very - well, fond is even the wrong expression. I've always loved all sorts of non-classical kinds of music in addition to classical music. I've always loved all sorts of folk and jazz and rock and ethnic music from around the world.
I think that what's happened is - over the decades is that I feel that gradually those different kinds of music have had their influence on mine. I now write a piece that is a regular chamber music piece in terms of its instrumentation or in general form, but it'll have a lot of jazz or rock kinds of things in it. I use drones a lot, which partially came from the fad of the - of listening to a lot of Indian music in the '60s, you know, and partially from the - from drone instruments such as a bagpipe and even the mountain dulcimer.
GROSS: Do you think that there's any classical composers that we treat a little too sanctimoniously?
SCHICKELE: Yes. I think - my feeling about that is that a lot of people don't realize that the people who wrote that music weren't as stuffy as the atmosphere of concert halls suggests that they were. But I do feel that the atmosphere surrounding music in the 18th century was probably closer to the atmosphere that we're familiar with now in terms of, let's say, a jazz group or something that is very serious in preparing its music, but often more light-hearted in his presentation.
For instance, one of the things that annoys me is that because of my reputation, I can't give a light title to a serious piece because if I do, everybody's going to be looking for something specifically funny. Whereas in jazz, you very often get flippant titles for pieces that are just straightforward jazz pieces. You get a piece called "Bike Up The Strand" or something like that. It's just a piece. It's not a joke piece.
I can't believe - if you look at the programs of those concerts in Beethoven's day, they must have gone on for three or four hours sometimes. When you read that the Handel organ concertos were written to be played between the acts of the oratorios, I can't believe that the audience just sat there the way we sit at a concert now. I'm sure there was a lot of noise. You read in the 19th century that some of the great chess matches were played at the opera in a box, you know? So I think the attitude was very different. And I don't even say that's the way it ought to be. I like getting myself completely engrossed in a piece. I don't like audiences that make noise.
But I think you pay a price, you know? We have this thing now that you shouldn't applaud after movements. In the 19th century, if the audience liked the movement, they applauded sometimes to the point where they had to play the movement over again. Now, you can say that that destroys the architecture of the symphony, but it's also something that comes out of a tremendous, spontaneous enthusiasm. Mozart wrote home when he did the "Paris Symphony," the last movement of which starts not with a big tutti, a big, loud thing right away that everybody usually expects in a symphony. But it starts with just the first and second violins scurrying around. And then finally, 10 seconds into it, or whatever it is, the whole orchestra comes blazing in. Apparently, the audience was delighted and burst into applause right then, when the orchestra came in. And Mozart wrote that home proudly 'cause he'd obviously got him, you know? He had delighted them. And I think the price we pay for the very serious approach - and as I say, I'm of two minds about it 'cause I like not being distracted - but the price we pay is a lack of spontaneity.
GROSS: Well, speaking of serious approaches, when you make your entrance in your concerts, you've entered in some most unusual ways. Do you want to describe some of the entrances you've made?
SCHICKELE: Well, now these, of course, are in P.D.Q. Bach concerts. The professor does have a habit of not being able to find the stage door of auditoriums, and so I've been known to end up in the balcony, and the only way I can get down quickly to the orchestra floor is by shimmying down a rope from the balcony to the aisle or swinging in from the front of the balcony like Tarzan. It's true that this has happened. But I think that to do that in a concert of Peter Schickele music would be to raise false expectations. So I try to find the right door in that case.
BIANCULLI: Peter Schickele speaking to Terry Gross in 1985 - more after a break. This is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF PETER SCHICKELE'S "ECHO SONATA FOR TWO UNFRIENDLY GROUPS OF INSTRUMENTS")
BIANCULLI: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to Terry's 1985 interview with Peter Schickele, a serious composer with a less-serious side, which he let loose in the guise of his musical alter ego, P.D.Q. Bach. Schickele died last week at age 88.
GROSS: I don't know if this has ever happened, but have you ever been at a concert where the musicians were laughing in the middle of it and, you know, just ruining the concert by laughing along with the joke instead of being straight-faced?
SCHICKELE: Well, actually, I don't ask them to be straight-faced anymore. When I first started appearing with symphony orchestras, I did, and I found that it sort of puts a wet blanket on it. When I'm appearing with my own group, The Intimate P.D.Q. Bach, we are very serious. But I found with a symphony orchestra, the atmosphere is better if I don't do that. And, in fact, I've gone a little bit - I've gone the other direction in that I don't even do everything at the rehearsal. I save some stuff for the performance to be a surprise for the orchestra as well as the audience. It's a very empirical decision and what works, you know?
You see; it's one thing - when you're working with your own group - people that you've hired, auditioned, whatever; you put together The Intimate P.D.Q. Bach Group, for instance - there you can work with them. You work out the routine. Everything is quite theatrically worked out. In the case of my appearances with a symphony orchestra, I almost never have more than two rehearsals with them, sometimes only one. I don't know these people. Some of these people might be good comedians. Some of them might not. Sometimes they're better comedians than they think they are. I have to sort of discourage participation on their part. But what I have found is that if I tell people not to laugh, it isn't as good a concert as if I tell them, don't worry about it.
So - and one of the things I found, actually, is that in cities where the symphony matters, where the - where people really care about their orchestra, usually members of the audience - I don't mean people on the board, either; I just mean people who go regularly - they really get to know the orchestra. They have people they particularly like to watch. They maybe know the people, maybe not, but they know them from watching them, and they love seeing them having a good time. I've had so many, had - so many times had people in the audience say, well, it's so wonderful to see that first cellist crack up. He's always so serious, you know? And so I think that that's a sort of a - that's something that's worth having, you know?
GROSS: When you first started performing before you were famous, did musicians think twice about playing with you because they thought that they'd be taken as comedians instead of serious musicians and it might have a negative impact on their careers?
SCHICKELE: Well, there was a certain amount of that. I think the very first humorous concert wasn't even called P.D.Q. Bach at Juilliard when I was a student there in 1959. And Jorge Mester and I and some other people put together a teeny little orchestra. Well, he put the orchestra together. But, I mean, it was probably two first violins and two seconds and a viola and a cello and a bass and a few winds. And the quodlibet was written for that concert literally overnight, with friends, including Phil Glass, sitting beside me, taking parts and copying parts as I finished the score. And when it came in, the quodlibet to the place where Beethoven's "Seventh Symphony" is combined with "Tea For Two," at the first and only rehearsal, one of the violinists got up and walked out and never came back. There's nothing we could do about it. And it wasn't as if anybody's being paid or if it was a school function or something like that. She didn't want to play, she didn't have to. And so she got up and walked out and never came back.
But I think one of the things that was nice is that - the fact that I did the concerts for six years at Juilliard and at Aspen meant that by the time I did the first public concert in '65, it already had an underground reputation among musicians as something fun to do. So right from the very beginning in New York, and this has remained true, I've worked with the very best freelance musicians. And the P.D.Q. Bach pieces reflect that. Some of them are quite difficult. People are often surprised if they attend a rehearsal at how hard we work on just getting the music right 'cause one of the things I learned from Spike Jones is the better play it is, the funnier it is. You know, you don't - it's not goofing off.
And so the high trumpet parts, for instance, are - it takes the really good high trumpet players to play them, you know? And it's because I've always had the top musicians. And one of the nice things about having done it as long as I have is that I've played with most of the orchestras in the country and most of the major symphonies and many community and college orchestras, and so they know that I'm not out to make a fool of them. And I'm very careful in my rehearsals to be very respectful of them because my attitude is that they are not hired to be comedians. They're hired to play the music.
GROSS: Did anyone ever say to you that you were ruining your own career and your own chances as a serious musician by focusing so much on the musical satire that you do?
SCHICKELE: Yeah, definitely. I mean, there are people who are fans of my serious music that decades - years ago, you know, wished that I had given up P.D.Q. Bach. I think the one thing I would do differently if I had to do it all over again - the trouble is I love that whole theatrical part of me. I said, you know, when I was 11, if you'd ask me what I was going to be when I grow up, I would have said an actor or a playwright or something like that. That whole side of me, of course, is very satisfied by the very theatrical nature of P.D.Q. Bach concerts.
The one thing I would do differently, I think, would be to use a funny, phony name for the professor, not as a secret but just as a signpost - I mean, not trying to keep my identity a secret but just so that Peter Schickele could be used for the the so-called serious music and the Professor Hossenfesser or whatever it's going to be would be used for P.D.Q. Bach because it is upsetting at a concert that has a serious peace of mind if a bunch of people, as sometimes has happened, come in just determined to find something to laugh at.
Very often, people don't know that I do anything serious, which isn't surprising, but sometimes when they find out that I do, they're not only surprised, but even disappointed. It's sort of like, oh, here's another clown who wants to play Hamlet, you know? And I have no desire to shove my serious music down people's throats. One of the reasons that I work hard on trying to get as much of it recorded as possible is it tends that way to get out to people who are interested in it. I get very nice feedback from people who've heard it on classical music stations. And - but I couldn't put a serious piece on a P.D.Q. Bach concert 'cause everybody would be waiting for something funny to happen.
BIANCULLI: Peter Schickele, aka P.D.Q. Bach, speaking to Terry Gross in 1985. Schickele died last week at age 88. After a break, we remember Mary Weiss, the lead singer of The Shangri-Las, the girl group best known for the song "Leader Of The Pack." And I'll review the new Apple TV+ miniseries about World War II pilots, "Masters Of The Air." Here's one more sample from a P.D.Q. Bach piece, the unforgettable ending to his oratorio called "The Seasonings," with the chorus singing, to curry favor, favor curry. The finale includes an instrument rarely heard in concert, the airhorn. I'm David Bianculli, and this is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "THE SEASONINGS")
UNIDENTIFIED MUSICAL GROUP: (Singing) To curry favor, favor curry.
DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli, professor of television studies at Rowan University.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "LEADER OF THE PACK")
THE SHANGRI-LAS: Is she really going out with him? Well, there she is. Let's ask her. Betty, is that Jimmy's ring you're wearing? Mm-hmm (ph). Gee, it must be great riding with him. Is he picking you up after school today? Uh-uh (ph). By the way, where'd you meet him? (Singing) I met him at the candy store. He turned around and smiled at me. You get the picture? Yes, we see. That's when I fell for the leader of the pack.
BIANCULLI: That's one of the big hits from the 1960s by the girl group The Shangri-Las. Today we remember the group's lead singer, Mary Weiss. She died last week at the age of 75. The Shangri-Las had a tough urban image and sang songs about teenage love, love that often ended up in tragedy. Their other hits include "Remember," "Give Us Your Blessings," "Long Live Our Love" and "Give Him A Great Big Kiss." Their producer was George "Shadow" Morton. Some of their records were produced like mini dramas with dialogue and sound effects.
During the '60s, James Brown hired the group for a big show and was surprised to discover they were not Black, as he assumed. The Shangri-Las influenced Debbie Harry, Amy Winehouse and the Ramones. The group originally consisted of sisters Mary and Betty Weiss and twin sisters Marge and Mary Ann Gansler. Mary Weiss left music after the group broke up in the late '60s, but she returned to music in 2007 and released her first solo album, which she titled "Dangerous Game." The CD was described in The New Yorker as a remarkable solo debut. Quote, "Weiss is in fine voice, and the songs combine the dark innocence of girl-group records with a mature sense of regret," unquote.
Terry Gross spoke with Mary Weiss then. They began with the opening track from the CD, the song "My Heart Is Beating."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "MY HEART IS BEATING")
MARY WEISS: (Singing) When you held me close, that's when I knew. Shield me through and through. I couldn't let you go. I couldn't let it show. And this whole word's unfair. I know it's true. What can I do? One day you'll be free. You'll come running to me. Till then, my heart is beating, beating, baby. I know you've been cheating. But if I take you back, you got to walk a straight and narrow track. I said if I take you back, I want to know you'll be good to me.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR BROADCAST)
TERRY GROSS: That's Mary Weiss from her new CD, "Dangerous Game." Mary Weiss, welcome to FRESH AIR. It's so great to have you recording again.
WEISS: Thank you.
GROSS: Yeah. You really sound great on the new record, but you haven't recorded and you haven't even performed much since The Shangri-Las broke up in the late '60s. Why have you stayed away from music for so many years?
WEISS: Basically, when we first started, it was all about music. And by the time we finished, it was all about litigation, and it just became thicker than the music.
GROSS: So what changed? And did somebody convince you to come back now?
WEISS: Interestingly enough, I was listening to an interview you did with Iggy Pop. And he mentioned life being in seven-year cycles, and I was just floored because I've always viewed life that way. And I've had a lot of things happen to me in recent years. I lost my mom. I lost my brother. And I've been reevaluating what it is I want to do with the last sector of my work life.
GROSS: And why did you think you wanted to go back to music?
WEISS: Because music is home to me. It always was. Music was my life as a child growing up, and it got me through most of the things in my life. And it feels like where I belong. So...
GROSS: So it must have been horrible to not be able to perform for all those years.
WEISS: Never been real fond of performing live. I'm a very private person, but I love the studio. That's my home.
GROSS: So that must have been frustrating, not being able to record.
WEISS: Yes and no. When I put something down, I really put it down. And I packed my bags, and I went on my way. I developed a new career. I was working for an architectural firm, and I had started in their accounting department. By the time I left, I was their chief purchasing agent. And I worked at commercial furniture dealerships, and I installed multimillion dollar installations.
GROSS: Did they know who you were?
WEISS: Yeah, unfortunately.
(LAUGHTER)
WEISS: And sometimes people would show up at my place of employment with an album in hand.
GROSS: Let's talk a little bit about The Shangri-Las. Now, you started out in high school performing at local bars with The Shangri-Las before you started recording. And the band was initially made up of you, your sister Betty and two twins who were your friends.
WEISS: Right.
GROSS: What was the band like before you started recording?
WEISS: Well, actually, we met in grammar school, and we used to sing on the street corner, all of us. So that's how we really started - in not bars. I was too young to be in a bar, actually.
GROSS: Right.
WEISS: Little hops and dances and things like that we did initially until we went up to Bob Lewis' apartment and met Shadow Morton.
GROSS: And the story of how you met George "Shadow" Morton, who became one of your producers and one of your chief songwriters is a story that's kind of entered rock 'n' roll lore, but I want you to tell it.
WEISS: We had an original manager. I believe his name was Tony Michaels. And he wanted Bob Lewis to hear us singing. So he had made an appointment with him, and we went up to his apartment just to hear us, and we got up and sang for him a cappella. And George was there - Shadow - Shadow - sitting there. And that's when I met him.
GROSS: And he, I think, wrote this on a dare. He was trying to convince the songwriter Jeff Barry that he was really a songwriter and he could write, you know, a ballad or a - or, you know, an up-tempo tune. And, and the song was "Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)," which is one of those, like, great, like, drama songs that you recorded.
WEISS: I really like that record.
GROSS: Oh, I love the record. I mean, who doesn't (laughter)?
WEISS: I'm doing that on stage. Are you? Yes, I am.
GROSS: Let's hear "Remember," which was The Shangri-Las' first hit. And you were - what? - 15 when this was recorded?
WEISS: I believe so.
GROSS: OK. Here we go.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "REMEMBER (WALKIN' IN THE SAND)")
THE SHANGRI-LAS: (Singing) Seemed like the other day my baby went away. He went away 'cross the sea. It's been two years or so since I saw my baby go, and then this letter came for me. He said that we were through. He found somebody new. Let me think. Let me think. What can I do? Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Remember walking in the sand. Remember walking hand in hand. Remember. The night was so exciting. Remember - smile was so inviting. Remember. Then he touched my cheek - remember - with his fingertips. Softly, softly, we meet with our lips. Whatever happened to the boy that I once knew?
GROSS: That's The Shangri-Las, their first hit. My guest, Mary Weiss, was the lead singer of The Shangri-Las. And now she has a new solo CD, which is called "Dangerous Game." Now, this song has such drama to it. You know, like when you're saying, like, let me think. Let me think. What can I do? Were you used to that kind of drama in your performances?
WEISS: I was used to that kind of drama in my life, so I think it would come out in my performances.
GROSS: What kind of drama in your life?
WEISS: Well, I think teenagers, for the most part - I can only speak for myself. But teenagers have an intensity that we seem to - I don't think we grow out of. But there's variable shades of gray added where, when you're a teen, a lot of things - or for me, anyway, everything was black and white. I don't know if I'm expressing myself correctly.
GROSS: Can you give us, like, an example of a dramatic incident that had already happened to you when you were 15 and recorded this?
WEISS: Not specifically. It's just the way - I grew up with a difficult childhood. We grew up pretty poor. And, I mean, I've been supporting myself since I'm 14. So I don't know. There was a lot of pain in me.
GROSS: Some people lose their bearings when they have that kind of sudden success at a young age. Did you?
WEISS: Oh, definitely. I think most - it's hard enough for an adult to deal with that type of situation, much less a child. I grew up on the road. I had a road manager who was barely a couple of years older than me. So, I mean, kids were going to proms, and I was giving press conferences in London. It's quite a weird way to grow up.
GROSS: If you don't mind my asking, did guys in bands try to hit on you on the road when you were traveling in rock and roll shows and sharing a bill?
WEISS: Other bands?
GROSS: Yeah.
WEISS: Sometimes, of course. We have such a tough image, supposedly, but...
GROSS: The Shangri-Las - absolutely. Yeah.
WEISS: Yeah. I think a lot of that comes from surviving, from making people back down.
GROSS: So you didn't have a tough image before your success.
WEISS: I never thought much about image. I just didn't like chiffon dresses and high heels.
GROSS: (Laughter).
WEISS: You know, that's as honest as I can be. And I never liked women's slacks back then. You know, they didn't have low-rise pants in 1964. They just didn't make them. So I used to go to a place on Eighth Street and have men's clothes tailored for me.
GROSS: Did anyone ever try - anyone, like, from a record company ever try to make The Shangri-Las more girlish and glamorous and less kind of tough-looking in, you know, your boots and pants?
WEISS: No, actually not. What we wore on stage after we started making money - I mean, you can see the difference from early on. We didn't have any clothes. Where you saw other groups where they had money and support behind them were extremely well-dressed from the beginning, we were out there pretty much in our street clothes. But then when we started making money, we designed our own clothes and had them made in the Village.
BIANCULLI: Mary Weiss speaking to Terry Gross in 2007 - more after a break. This is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "STOP AND THINK IT OVER")
WEISS: (Singing) I know your folks give you a hard time. Little boy, just put your hand in mine. You'll see what a good, good girl I'll be. And all your friends - well, they say I'm bad.
BIANCULLI: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to Terry's 2007 interview with Mary Weiss, former lead singer of the '60s singing group The Shangri-Las. She died last week at age 75.
GROSS: Let's hear, but talk about first, another really famous Shangri-Las recording. And I'm thinking of "Leader Of The Pack."
WEISS: OK.
GROSS: Your first impression of the song?
WEISS: I really had to sit down with this one. I took it home and listened to it for a very long time before I agreed to do it.
GROSS: Why were you so reluctant?
WEISS: Even - I mean, even at the time, it was pretty much out there, I mean, in England, there was a very rigid environment, even globally. I mean, the record was banned in England the first time it came out.
GROSS: Did you rehearse this song differently than you usually rehearsed songs because of the spoken parts in it and the drama?
WEISS: Well, usually I'd rehearse those home initially, and I remember having a hard time with certain songs where we'd actually dim lights in the studio so I could feel, like, alone in order to be able to deliver it properly. The look out took a little bit because it's kind of metered, and it had to be right on the money to do. So I would just sit at home and yell, look out, which is - I'm sure my neighbors loved that.
GROSS: Well, why don't we hear the song?
WEISS: OK.
GROSS: And this is The Shangri-Las, "Leader Of The Pack."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "LEADER OF THE PACK")
THE SHANGRI-LAS: Is she really going out with him? Oh, there she is, let's ask her. Betty, is that Jimmy's ring your wearing? Mm-hmm (ph). Gee, it must be great riding with him. Is he picking you up after school today? Uh-uh (ph). By the way, where'd you meet him? (Singing) I met him at the candy store. He turned around and smiled at me. You get the picture? Yes, we see. That's when I fell for leader of the pack. My folks were always putting him down. Down, down. They said he came from the wrong side of town. What you mean when you say that he came from the wrong side of town? They told me he was bad, but I knew he was sad. That's why I fell for the leader of the pack. One day, my dad said, find someone new. I had to tell my Jimmy we're through. What you mean when you say that you better go find somebody new? He stood there and asked me why, but all I could do was cry. I'm sorry I hurt you, the leader of the pack.
He sort of smiled and kissed me goodbye. The tears were beginning to show. As he drove away on that rainy night, I begged him to go slow. Whether he heard, I'll never know. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Look out. Look out. Look out. Look out. (Singing) I felt so helpless. What could I do, remembering all the things we've been through? In school, they all stop and stare. I can't hide my tears, but I don't care. I'll never forget him, the leader of the pack. Ooh. Gone. The leader of the pack, now he's gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. The leader of the pack, now he's gone. Gone. The leader of the pack, now he's gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
GROSS: That's The Shangri-Las. My guest, Mary Weiss, was the lead singer of the group. You know, as we were saying, The Shangri-Las had the image of being very tough. What was your neighborhood like in Queens when you were growing up?
WEISS: I probably would consider it middle to low middle class. There were a lot of kids in the neighborhood. An average neighborhood, pretty much.
GROSS: What did your mother do to support you?
WEISS: She had periodic jobs on occasion, but nothing really substantial.
GROSS: So you were pretty much scraping by?
WEISS: Yeah, absolutely.
GROSS: So it must have been really welcomed when you started making a lot of money.
WEISS: There you go.
GROSS: And did you send a lot back to your mother?
WEISS: Always. We kind of raised her, as much as we could.
GROSS: What are you hoping for musically and professionally this time around? You stayed away from the music business since the late '60s. There was so much litigation. You were so kind of disillusioned with the business at that point. You stayed away for decades. What do you want this time around?
WEISS: Actually, I want music. The funny thing about it now is I'm not a kid, there is no ladder I'm trying to climb, I have nothing to prove. No one can remove what I've done from my past. It is what it is. And now it's time to just have some music in my life and have some fun. I don't know. The whole thing has been fabulous, and the response is absolutely overwhelming, but I'm not looking for anything specific. I just want to rock 'n' roll. That's how I want to spend my last days before I retire.
GROSS: (Laughter).
BIANCULLI: Mary Weiss speaking to Terry Gross in 2007. The former lead singer of The Shangri-Las died last week at age 75. Coming up, I'll review "Masters Of The Air," the latest World War II series from the makers of "Band Of Brothers" and "The Pacific." This is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF FRED HERSCH'S "PASTORALE")
DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm TV critic David Bianculli. In the '90s, Steven Spielberg directed two unforgettably powerful films about World War II, "Schindler's List" in 1993 and "Saving Private Ryan" in 1998. "Saving Private Ryan" starred Tom Hanks, and Hanks and Spielberg weren't through with their obsession with World War II dramas. They were just beginning. Teaming with Gary Goetzman, they produced two impressive, captivating HBO miniseries about World War II - "Band Of Brothers" in 2001, followed nine years later by "The Pacific." Both of them did what "Saving Private Ryan" also had accomplished so brilliantly. They allowed the audience to experience the intensity and brutality of wartime - not just allowed us but forced us in unrelenting battle sequences that gave new meaning to the phrase, you are there. And those dramas also delivered large helpings of surprise and of loss. We got to know and care deeply about its soldiers and Marines, and then, without warning, many of them were taken away from us.
"Masters Of The Air" is the newest entry in this World War II project by Spielberg, Hanks and company. It's every bit their equal and boasts precisely the same strengths. It's presented by Apple TV+ this time, rolled out weekly after tonight's two episode premiere. And because "Masters Of The Air," like "Band Of Brothers" and "The Pacific," is a limited miniseries, even the main characters are at risk of dying at any time, and some do. Two of the primary characters share a similar nickname, a confusing gimmick that's explained early on. There's Gale "Buck" Cleven, played by Austin Butler, and John "Bucky" Egan, played by Callum Turner. Bucky had the nickname first and gave the shorter name, Buck, to his friend just to annoy him until it stuck. Bucky is a loudmouth hothead. Buck is more quiet and private. But they're good friends, and they're both great pilots. In this early scene, they're in a club, drinking and listening to the jukebox, about to be shipped off to fight overseas. Bucky has orders to go first and has some news for Buck.
(SOUNDBITE OF TV SHOW, "MASTERS OF THE AIR")
AUSTIN BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) So this is it.
CALLUM TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) This is it.
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) See you in a few weeks.
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) If I don't die first.
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) I hate to break it to you, Bucky, but you are the hundredths air executive now. I'm not going over there to fly missions.
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) Look. I had a conversation with the CO over at the 389th, and I'm fine with those boys until you guys show up. I'll be an observation pilot.
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) You son of a bitch.
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) Yeah, well, someone's gotta taste a little combat. I'll tell you what it's really like up there.
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) Don't you die on me before I get over there.
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) Don't count on it.
BIANCULLI: When Buck finally gets to Europe and flies his first mission, it's more manic and terrifying than he ever imagined. When he pilots his bomber back to the base, Buck finds Bucky waiting for him. It's an unexpected reunion and not necessarily a happy one because Buck has some questions.
(SOUNDBITE OF TV SHOW, "MASTERS OF THE AIR")
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) Why didn't you tell me?
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) What?
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) You've been up two missions. You didn't tell me it was like that.
TURNER: (As John "Bucky" Egan) I don't know what to say. You've seen it now.
BUTLER: (As Gale "Buck" Cleven) I don't know what I saw.
BIANCULLI: Austin Butler empowers Buck with the undeniable charisma of an old-fashioned movie star, like a bomber pilot James Dean. Butler's breakout starring role was as Elvis Presley in "Elvis." And here, even without the trappings of showbiz flash and glitz, he's just as magnetic. But he's not carrying this story or fighting this war alone. Callum Turner's Bucky matches him throughout, and so does Anthony Boyle, who plays a young navigator named Harry Crosby. And a lot more players contribute greatly. This is a large cast doing justice to a very big story.
"Masters Of The Air" is based on the book by Donald L. Miller. Several talented directors traded off working on various episodes, but all were adapted for TV by screenwriter John Orloff. His narrative not only follows the leading characters during World War II but makes time over its nine episodes to weave in such familiar wartime narratives as the Tuskegee Airmen and the Great Escape. Lots of time is spent airborne in one thrilling mission after another, but there also are scenes set in briefing rooms, barracks, rest and recreation spots, even German prisoner of war camps. "Masters Of The Air" finds drama in all those places. And it's nice to know that this miniseries, like its predecessors, is being rolled out in weekly installments. These hours of television are like the Air Force missions themselves. They're such intense experiences, it's nice to have a little time between them to reflect and to breathe.
(SOUNDBITE OF BLAKE NEELY'S "SOAR (MAIN TITLE THEME FROM 'MASTERS OF THE AIR')")
BIANCULLI: On Monday, show journalist and author Antonia Hilton. She's written a new book called "Madness: Race And Insanity In A Jim Crow Asylum." It's the culmination of over a decade of investigative and archival research. It pieces together the 93-year history of Maryland's first segregated asylum, which she says gives us context about the state of mental health care today. FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support by Joyce Lieberman, Julian Herzfeld and Charlie Kaier. For Terry Gross and Tonya Mosley, I'm David Bianculli.
(SOUNDBITE OF BLAKE NEELY'S "SOAR (MAIN TITLE THEME FROM 'MASTERS OF THE AIR')
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