Pickled Priest Mixtape: Our Favorite Songs of 1964

Music Television in 1964

Today, we attempt the impossible. We distill 1964 down to twenty-six songs by twenty-six different artists. Not the best songs in all cases, but our songs. The ones that really mean something to us. It was a groundbreaking year for music and, because we weren't born yet, we didn't see any of it go down.

SIDE A

26 “The Witch” | The Sonics

In 1963, five punk kids from Tacoma Washington started a band.

–From the movie poster for the documentary Boom: A Film About The Sonics.

If you told the parents of singer Jerry Roslie, guitarist Larry Parypa, bassist Andy Parypa, saxophonist Rob Lind, and drummer Bob Bennett that one day all that awful noise coming out of the garage would be memorialized in a documentary some fifty years later I’m sure they’d nervously stare at you like you were an escaped mental patient. Other than being an inspiring and heartwarming film, the documentary about these Pacific Northwest legends pretty much retroactively justifies the formation of every ragtag band of misfits that followed. After all, you never know what is gonna happen next, do you? The fact things rarely work out like this doesn’t matter in the slightest, either. The Sonics were my favorite kind of rock band: raw, feral, and highly unlikely. That reality gave them a sense of anything-goes recklessness that translated into nasty proto-punk songs like “The Witch,” the band’s very first single, released on Etiquette Records in late-1964. To this day, nothing gets me more excited than a band that can distill the same raw essence of the early Sonics singles. “The Witch” started it all.  

25 “20-75" | Willie Mitchell

When it comes to soul music, we tend to spend a lot of time focusing on our beloved Stax Records, especially when we’re time traveling to the 1960s, but not far from Stax Studios sat a dingy, unassuming building at 1320 S. Lauderdale St, the home of another repurposed ex-movie theater, Royal Studios, the recording hub for legendary label, Hi Records (home of Al Green, Ann Peebles, Otis Clay, Syl Johnson and other notables—still in operation today!). What Booker T. Jones was to Stax, Willie Mitchell was to Hi Records and Royal Studios soon became known as the “House of Instrumentals,” based on its success rate in producing wordless compositions. Hi wouldn’t hit its peak until the 1970s when Al Green was signed by Willie Mitchell, but they recorded some killer material throughout the 1950s and 60s, too. “20-75”, named after its catalog number (HI2075), was an early hit for Mitchell and is worthy of mention in the same breath as some of those Booker T & the MGs classics from the same time period.

24 “Jump Back” | Rufus Thomas

Back across town, Rufus Thomas was in charge of keeping things light at Stax (an unofficial, but essential responsibility for the label’s Clown Prince), and almost every single he released is packed with infectious energy and unbridled joy. We all know him for “Walking the Dog,” of course, but he had a bunch of other gems in his arsenal. “Jump Back” is just one of his finest moments. If it existed, the song would be elected to the Background Singers Hall of Fame on the first ballot. After one listen, you’ll wish you coulda been one of those circling the background mic answering Rufus’s every exhortation. How often are the background singers the best part of a song? Here's one example.

23 “Soul Serenade” | King Curtis

Curtis Ousley’s saxophone melody on “Soul Serenade” has captivated me for decades. Depending on your state of mind at the moment if can be peacefully mournful or reassuringly comforting. When something this beautiful is playing nothing is as bad as it seems.       

22 “Come a Little Bit Closer” | Jay & the Americans

I love a dash of Latin spice in my music, so it’s not surprising that a little border tale like this would cheer me up every time. I’m mainly drawn in by the chorus, which is a perfect way to draw a new “friend” out onto the dancefloor. I’m sure this song had aided in plenty of wedding hook-ups and the like over the years. The lyrics tell of a woman who uses the same damn approach to any man she’s trying to entice, be it an American stranger or her very own jealous lover, but that doesn't spoil the fun. And this song is a total blast. Added bonus: Any time you can mention the border in a positive way these days, you should take it.

Editor's Note: For extra credit, also check out the Spanish version.  

21 “Yeh Yeh” | Georgie Fame

A mostly British concern, Georgie boy managed three UK #1s during his long career and this was his first. If pushed, it might’ve been a big hit in the States, especially considering the Beatles “She Loves You” was still fresh in kids minds at the time. A song titled “Yeh Yeh,” especially one this catchy, seems like it could’ve surfed that wave up the charts. He’s a household name across the pond, but I’ll always love this single, which was actually a cover of a Mongo “Watermelon Man” Santamaria's version from the year prior. Who wore it better? Well, Georgie, of course.

20 “Laisse Tomber Les Filles” | France Gall

Show me a mixtape that hasn’t benefited from a perky French pop song and I’ll show you a tape holding up a wobbly table leg. France Gall was a yé-yé pop star in France and today she’s been referred to as the French Britney Spears, although that seems like a slight to me. The title of this song technically means something on the line of "Drop it [already] with the girls" or "Stop messing around with the girls," which sounds pretty progressive to me. Even without translation, this is a cool sounding pop song. So cool, the melody was appropriated by April March for her song “Chick Habit” most notable for its presence on the soundtrack to Quentin Tarantino’s Grindhouse film, Death Proof.

19 “Time Is On My Side" | Irma Thomas

Do not start with me and say the Stones' version is the definitive take on "Time Is On My Side" unless you want a full throwdown with a Priest. I mean, it's not even close. For one, the song is way more convincing from a woman's perspective and not that of a young Brit on the prowl for American soul classics to poach. And if that woman is the Soul Queen of New Orleans, get the fuck out of town. If you've spent the last sixty years thinking otherwise, don't worry, you lost your way for a bit–it happens–but you'll be coming back to this version eventually. Trust in Irma, she knows these things.

18 “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’" | The Righteous Brothers

For a moment or two, it sounds like it might be on the wrong speed, but soon you realize that’s just the majestic baritone of Bill Medley–what an extraordinary gift he was given. With Bobby Hatfield countering with his own wailing vocals, this amounts to one of the greatest records of any kind ever made, many thanks to Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” production, which turns the song from just another ballad into something as gigantic as true love itself. I have to admit, it’s taken a ten-place beating due to the abuse it has suffered over the years (Top Gun, excessive radio play, etc.), but there’s no denying it its place as one of the most gut-wrenching breakup songs ever written….and sung. You can feel the heaviness in every line as the darkness blows in. My favorite part, other than the beginning, is the bridge, when Phil starts pleading, “Baby, baby, I’d get down on my knees for you.” I don’t know why this is, but I suppose I'm preternaturally drawn to the concept of dropping to one's knees (no, not in that way) to beg for mercy, be it from a higher power, a friend, or a lover. It’s the ultimate sacrifice of human dignity. There's no guarantee the plea will work, but why not make one last effort to resuscitate it? You never know.

17 “Saturday Night at the Movies” | The Drifters

I’m a Drifters nut and they released several standards in 1964, including the evergreen “Under the Boardwalk,” but I’ve always adored the time capsule that is “Saturday Night at the Movies” even more. What do we have on Saturday nights now? Staring at our phones, pining over who is doing what with whom and where? There’s zero romance in that. I much prefer the world captured by the Drifters here. Back in 1964, if you wanted to find your friends, or a potential date, on a Saturday night, all you had to do was head to the movies, where the lucky ones got some wet ass pussy in the balcony. Check that, the lyrics actually say, “Huggin' with your baby in the last row of the balcony” as they fucking should, even now! Have some class, people. I say bring back the Saturday night movie scene! Who cares what picture we see?

16 “She’s Not There” | The Zombies

A song far ahead of its time in my opinion. It’s deep, haunting, and a little scary, especially when you do a full autopsy on the lyrics. And, trust me, people have and continue to do so, hatching all kinds of plausible takes on the true meaning of the song. Songwriter Rod Argent has indicated it's just a simple relationship song about a cruel girlfriend who ghosts a teenage boy. Considering this was the early 60's, his explanation makes sense. I choose not to settle for that story. I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I do love an embellished backstory. Some nuts have claimed the singer murdered his girlfriend and got rid of the body–so don't bother trying to find her, she's not there. That's a little too dark even for me. Especially for 1964. If this was written in 2025, then for sure, he killed her and mutilated the body, binge the multi-part doc on Netflix over the weekend. My preferred interpretation, and it's my right to adopt it, is that the singer was, unknown to him at the time, dating a girl with a personality disorder. And, his friends didn't warn him, the dirty rat bastards. This girl is capable of holding it together during the early, superficial moments of a relationship, when her ample charms are all the boy sees, but her true nature will eventually reveal itself. Behind her pretty face is a empty vessel, similar in nature to Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, but without the nail gun, axe, and transparent raincoat. You may ask yourself how all this speculation could follow a song that's less than two-and-a-half minutes long, and that's the beauty of it. We haven't even mentioned the jazzy accents added to the track to further confuse matters. One thing is for sure, no other pop song from the era sounds and acts anything like this Zombies classic and that's probably a good thing.

15 “Any Way You Want It” | The Dave Clark Five

This song makes me glad all over more than “Glad All Over,” so it’s my choice to represent the DC5 on our 1964 mixtape. For a major international hit, this was a pretty raw sounding, with just enough recklessness, echo, and reverb to make it sound a little dangerous even. It sure does move at a fast clip, tumbling one lyric into the next with a sense of urgency. Why the urgency? Because the guy has found a girl who doesn't want money or a diamond ring–just sex–that's why. Where do I sign? Delusional as Diamondless Dave may be, and whether you're suspicious of her ulterior motives (totally valid), the idea is alright with him as presented, of course. How magnanimous.

*Considering the theme of the song, it's no surprise Kiss covered it on the non-live side of Alive II in 1977. A cover I stand behind, btw, as being surprisingly good.

14 “Gloria” | Them

Oh-oh, calling Gloria!

–"Gloria" by Laura Branigan

Cruel choice: “Baby, Please Don’t Go” or “Gloria”? Both are incendiary singles featuring a nasty vocal from a then nineteen-year-old Van Morrison. Flip a coin. Even Decca, the band's record label, couldn't decide at the time. In the end, "Gloria" got relegated to the B-side in favor of his manic take on an old blues standard. The rest is history, and we got another bar trivia question for music nerds to salivate over in the bargain. Our choice was settled by five primary factors:

1. Van wrote "Gloria" and "Baby, Please Don't Go" was a cover. Rewarding the original seemed logical.

2. "Gloria" is positively salacious, especially for the time. The ultimate midnight "You up?" booty call. Young, horny energy always wins out in rock & roll.

3. The drums. I love how they build slowly, only to completely spazz out near the end, possibly mimicking the euphoric moment of ejaculation.

4. I love that Van expressly provides us Gloria's height, a respectable 5' 4", for informational purposes only. Lots of songs mention a girl's (young) age or dimensions ("Brick House"), but very few provide her height as well. Much appreciated.

5. And finally, if there was no "Gloria" then we would've had a different song opening Patti Smith's Horses album and perhaps we'd have lost out on her iconic intro, "Jesus Christ died for somebody's sins, but not mine." We can't have that.

Note: It isn't well-documented, but it should be. Pickled Priest, in general, doesn't like spelling songs. There are but a few exceptions. This is one of them.

 

SIDE B

13 “Tainted Love” | Gloria Jones

Gloria, you're always on the run now

Running after somebody

–"Gloria" by Laura Branigan

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away,

I've got to, get away

from the pain you drive into the heart of me

–"Tainted Love" by Gloria Jones

G-L-O-R-I-A! Gloria hallelujah! There are two incredible versions of this song, recorded years apart, and that is something to celebrate. I do think it was always meant to be an R&B song primarily, but a great song can transcend genres, and that was proven by Soft Cell's brilliant reworking of the song in 1981. Their synthesized update of this then obscure 1964 B-side (yes, another B-side and one of three on this mixtape alone!) ended up as one of the best cover songs of all-time. Like most, I didn't even realize it was a cover, but when I finally discovered Gloria's version on the Stax Singles box set, I immediately fell in love with it. She delivers a dynamite vocal, injecting some needed raw grit into the song that was missing from the Soft Cell cut.

12 “You Won’t Do Right” | Bobby Marchan

Speaking of lost Stax classics, here's another underappreciated single from the prime-era of the Memphis label. This R&B nugget likely got buried in a sea of other big-name releases at the time, but it’s a primo vocal performance with a midsection that seems like Mr. Marchan is teaching a middle school class about the hazards of young love. Bobby had a shiver built into his voice at birth that came out when he was on edge and this is a great example of that natural gift; one of the more original vocal stylists on the Stax roster.

11 “Bar-B-Q” | Wendy Rene

The sound of hot soul and the smell of smoking meat are Siamese twin sensations, inseparable for many. Both sizzle in their own unique, satisfying way. When Wendy sings, “I like a Bar-B-Q! ...You like a Bar-B-Q" … "We like a Bar-B-Q!” she brings both worlds together for three finger-licking minutes. Or paw licking minutes, if you must, because both the dog with the bone and “the old cat sittin’ on a stone" wants some Bar-B-Q! (it rhymed, what else can be said?). Well, you can bet your sweet, tangy ass that soul Bar-B-Q doesn’t involve flipping a switch on a propane grill either. This feast is the real, open-pit deal, a song that celebrates man’s greatest accomplishment: outdoor cooking!

10 “My Boy Lollipop” | Millie

Millicent Dolly May Small, aka Millie, wasn’t a global superstar, but she did break some ground during her career. Everyone’s favorite Millie song is “My Boy Lollipop” and there are no other worthy contenders, which doesn't diminish its stature for me. Strangely, for a song that sold seven million copies worldwide, and went to #1 in the UK and #2 in the US upon its release back in 1964, you don’t hear the Jamaican pixie’s smash single very much anymore. You might assume that the song was the early-60s equivalent of one of our modern-day junk-pop singles—meant for a quick payoff, but not built to last—but you’d be wrong on that front, because the song still sounds fun and fresh today well over 60 years later! “Lollipop” is an adorable two-minute sweet tart of a single that blends an impossibly perky vocal teeming with playground vocal inflections, a killer harmonica solo (not by a young Rod Stewart as once rumored), and a then-rare-for-radio ska backbeat. In fact, it was, and still is, one of the earliest and biggest-selling ska or reggae singles in history. Not only that, the song was the very first hit single on Chris Blackwell's Island Records, one of the most important and influential labels of all time (the eventual home to Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff, U2, Tom Waits, Nick Drake, and an embarrassment of other riches). So, not only is it a great song, it has significant historical value, too. If you require something a little more titillating to convince you, I’ve always been suspicious of this song’s “my boyfriend is such a sweetheart” sentiment. To me, and I may be exposing myself as a pervert here, it sounds like a thinly disguised blow job song. I know I'm not alone here and I’m pretty sure I’m right.

09 “The Sounds of Silence” | Simon & Garfunkel

The first Simon & Garfunkel album gets slagged on a bit,* which is deserved, but it still contains the original, acoustic version of “The Sounds of Silence” (its original title, sometimes referenced as "The Sound of Silence" on future releases–it's complicated) and that alone justifies the its existence. The song was augmented for their 1966 album titled, you guessed it, Sounds of Silence, with more adornment (electric guitar/drums), and while both versions work equally for me, I had already chosen my beloved "I Am a Rock" to represent the later album on my 1966 mixtape, so this allows me to sneak the original in here. Suffice it to say, a devastatingly poetic song with some of the most haunting opening lyrics ever written, Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again. Jesus Christ, what is he going to say next? I don't need to tell you, but each stanza brings with it more songwriting genius. Simon has said it's about our failure to communicate, and listen, to each other and that's more true now than it has ever been. The song has never lost one iota of its original power over time.

*Their take on "The Times They Are A-Changin'" is anodyne.

08 “You Really Got Me” | The Kinks

In search of the lost power chord, the Kinks found "You Really Got Me," one of rock & roll's signature calling cards. It's in the 99.9th percentile of the most recognizable song intros of all-time. Dave Davies is just plain wicked on guitar, but it's not that iconic riff alone that landed the song at the #8 spot here. It's his mid-song solo from 1:16 to 1:31 that is the real magical moment for me. It sounds like a guitar getting into a skirmish in a London pub.

07 “Everybody Needs Somebody to Love” | Solomon Burke

Oddly, the bouncy, energized take on "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love," performed in The Blues Brothers movie, is likely the most known version of Solomon Burke's soul classic. That doesn't seem fair, but at least Belushi and Aykroyd had a deep love for the source material and were backed by one of the best bands ever assembled. Plus, it's a great scene. The song's message is so universal, even a couple comedians could make it work. The version performed was actually based on Wilson Pickett's testosterone-fueled cover released on his 1967 album, The Wicked Pickett. As he is wired to do, Pickett delivered a lusty vocal, what else would you expect? It's an undeniably killer version. That said, Wilson wasn't exactly the preacher type, so the mini-sermon included mid-song took on a less pious tone in his hands. To get to the song's essence, we'll need to work backwards another three years to arrive at Burke's original version from 1964. To a layman, it might be a bit of an adjustment compared to the first two versions discussed, but Burke's best reflects the song's origins in the church. Like Sam Cooke, Burke was birthed to sing in a gospel choir. In fact, he used to sing his song to a congregation before it became a hit. Which is the reason the cadence of his version follows a more gospel-friendly tempo. It's slower, but it's no less impactful. In fact, it feels like that rare sermon that will keep you wide awake for the duration. Solomon, to say the least, knows his way around a pulpit, that much is apparent. He's a natural preacher, but the real trick is that this song will appeal equally to the secular crowd or the non-secular– church, concert hall, it makes no difference. There's no specific mention of religion, just love sweet love. Of course, King Solomon says it best for all to hear: "I believe that if everybody would sing this song, it would save the whole world." Amen.

06 “Oh, Pretty Woman” | Roy Orbison

We know the iconic opening moments from a mile away–that signature beat, that guitar figure–both immediately identifiable. No lineup needed. We know the glorious voice, a gift from some deity or the result of some genetic lottery win. We know the subtle aside near the beginning where Roy adds a "Mercy!" as the pretty woman walks by. And yes, we even know the Julia Roberts/Richard Gere vehicle of the same name, for better or worse. All those things are part of the lasting grandeur of "Oh, Pretty Woman." For me, the moment of conversion is Roy's growl at the 1:02 mark. It kills me every time, so out of character for the demure Orbison. And it works! Just when you think she's gone forever, she stops, does an about-face, and strolls back in Roy's direction, as if growling at a woman, in any world, would actually work. Spoiler: The pretty woman in question was his wife, Claudette. C'mon, deep down you knew Roy couldn't pull off the construction worker routine if his life depended on it. With that knowledge, the song is even better than originally thought.

05 “That’s How Strong My Love Is” | Otis Redding

This song once again proves Otis could make any song his own and bring any song new life. A cold read of the lyrics doesn't impress much: suns, moons, rainbows, ocean breezes, the whole sappy family. All things they teach in the first week of Love Songs 101. Yet somehow, someway, Otis delivers a passionate vocal straight from the depths of his soul that suddenly makes everything he's singing seem downright profound and compelling. Non-toxic masculinity in its purest form and an inspiration for all big, strong men to dial back the testosterone a few notches and get in touch with their feelings. If this huge, powerful man can do it, so can you.

04 “I Can’t Explain” | The Who

It’s almost hard to believe that some of the early Who singles (this being their first) were actually released on the dates listed in their discography. They all sound just ahead of their time. Each of them touched down like little lightning strikes, a surging jolt of electricity that exploded out of nowhere. Pete Townshend didn't write songs wired to a single circuit back them. He wrote songs with a big switch in mind, the kind they used to animate Frankenstein. The opening riff of "I Can't Explain," even though famously influenced by the Kinks' "All Day and All of the Night" and "You Really Got Me," still somehow sounds original. In other words, it sounds like the Who.

03 “The Times They Are A-Changin'" | Bob Dylan

I always cringe when a list includes a Bob Dylan release, especially if it's from the 1960s. So many songs to choose from, all with valid reasons for selecting them, but how often do you get the chance to pick a song that sparked and defined a new generation? How often do you get to pick a song that altered your world view? "The Times They Are A-Changin'" is that song on both counts. Everyone identifies it as a cultural milestone and I also identify it as one of the first Dylan songs that knocked me flat, even if I wasn't a part of his generation. The song is written to last, it applies now the same way it did then just for different people, and I can't imagine that will ever change. The concept of handing off the world to a new generation is evergreen. The old gen never likes it, but taking everyone to task is a generational privilege (OK boomer!), combining a new vision for the future, a loose awareness of the past, and an equal mix of ignorance and hubris. Nothing escapes the critical eye of a new generation and, of course, this included parents: Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command. I liked that, and still do, even now that I'm on the other end of the equation. But if my kids are beyond my command, why do they always need more money?

02 “A Hard Day’s Night” | The Beatles

My love for the album A Hard Day's Night is deep and abiding. That said, when I first discovered the Beatles on my own terms as a young kid, it was via the red (1962-1996) and blue (1967-1970) compilation albums released in 1973. It helps to have older siblings (sometimes). Predictably, it was the red comp that captivated me first–the band's early songs being more accessible to young ears. The "innocent" Beatles, if you will–more poppy, less trippy. At the time, I didn't think of Beatles songs as being part of any specific album, just a collection of songs with no identified source. Of course, I backfilled with the individual records in due time to further my education, but even today, with the full picture in focus, I still have an undying affection for the goofy, moptop Beatles. A Hard Day's Night is my all-time favorite. It is the one Beatles album I've listened to the most during my life by some distance. I adore every minute of it. I will resist running through every song one-by-one because that's not the purpose of this mixtape, but I want to and hope to someday. To select just one is heresy, but I must default to what amounts to the most boring and obvious choice. If I don't pick the title track, I will be lying to myself. It has been my anchor since the very beginning. From the legendary opening chord to the last, it thrills me every time I hear it. You can almost hear the girls screaming as it plays, as Ringo goes wild on his drum kit, as the cool bridge kicks in, as the bassline thumps, as the harmonies escalate. A pop masterpiece, plain and simple. But you know that already.

01 “A Change is Gonna Come” | Sam Cooke

One of the greatest songs ever recorded is also one of the greatest B-sides in music history. That this came out in 1964 still floors me; that it still applies in 2025 floors me again. A rare double-flooring. To get to the very top of 1964's mixtape, you've got to do something special. And songs don't get much more special than "A Change is Gonna Come." That it came in the same year as Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin' is a fascinating social dichotomy. Dylan makes no specific mention of civil rights in his song, although he did two years earlier in "Blowin' in the Wind," which inspired Cooke to write "Change." Ironically, the song appeared on Cooke's album Ain't That Good News, released in February, 1964, but it was never put out as a single during his lifetime as Cooke would be shot and killed in December of that same year. I find it interesting that even after his death, a powerful song of this magnitude, a song clearly important to Cooke's legacy, was still made the B-side in favor of the first posthumous single, "Shake," on December 22nd. It's one of the most perplexing and unforgivable marketing decisions ever made. On another note, Sam sang "A Change is Gonna Come" on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show on February 7, 1964 (tape not kept–yet another tactical blunder), the one and only time he performed the song in public. While it should've made a huge impact, it was soon overshadowed by the Beatles' first Ed Sullivan Show appearance two days later. Talk about your bad timing. At least on this list, however, the song takes a backseat to no other artist or song, even the beloved Beatles.*

*Editor's Note: The Beatles didn't play "A Hard Day's Night" during their appearance on that first telecast. The album was released five months later in July of 1964.

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See you in another year soon, but let's face it: 1964s don't happen every year.

Cheers,

The Priest