Yesterday I was driving home in my car and listening to a new album (Gov’t Mule - The Dark Side of the Mule).
Gov’t Mule is known for occasionally producing a live album of covers of other well known bands. On this Pink Floyd cover concert the crowd got into it and the band let them sing a verse of the song. The crowd did a pretty good job for a while but failed on a few beats.
It occurred to me that if someone were standing on stage moving their hand to the beat of the music the crowd might have done a better job.
That’s when the deep down memory flash hit me. I vaguely remembered that I used to watch something like this as a very young child. Eventually the memories got a little clearer.
Through the grace of YouTube I found an old show.
If you can’t handle the music, skip ahead to around the 4 minute mark for the commercials. t gives you an idea of the stat of special effects during that time.
Wow, I wasn’t aware of the TV show, but for some reason, Sing Along with Mitch records are ubiquitous in thrift store record bins. I’m not sure if that means the records were extremely popular and only disposed of when the owners got rid of their turntable, or that they were bought for a laugh, played once, then sat around for 40 years until they were found again and promptly put in a bag to donate.
Mitch Miller was a VP at one of the big record companies in the 50s. He hated rock music, and started putting out his “Sing Along with Mitch” albums in the early 60s, with a lyric book included. They were extremely popular, most likely hitting the top of the charts for albums and singles (“The Yellow Rose of Texas,” IIRC).
That led to the TV show, which I remember, but rarely watched (Even I – who was into Broadway soundtracks, if anything) thought they were pretty corny. However the did showcase a Black star at a time they were rarely on TV – Leslie Uggams.
When I was in college, a guy took me to an open-air venue concert that turned out to be a “Sing Along with Mitch” event with Mitch Miller and Rosemary Clooney. It wasn’t bad, because I enjoy that type of music, but he was pretty embarassed because he had somehow assumed that this was going to be a rock concert.
Mitch Miller was the TV equivalent of old Harvey Toons I used to see, in which a bouncing ball would guide us through the lyrics of old standards from the 19th century (Stephen Foster, “Bicycle Built for Two,” et al.), and invite us to sing along.
I’m familiar with Mitch Miller, but I could never figure out why Queen kept refering to him in Bohemian Rhapsody.
Mitch Miller! No, we will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Mitch Miller! We will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Mitch Miller! We will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Thanks for the info. The ubiquitous “thrift store staple” albums seem to indicate that the people who donate to Goodwill hated rock music, too (or maybe are still hanging onto those albums.)
Mitch Miller was a VP at one of the big record companies in the 50s. He hated rock music, and started putting out his “Sing Along with Mitch” albums in the early 60s, with a lyric book included. They were extremely popular, most likely hitting the top of the charts for albums and singles (“The Yellow Rose of Texas,” IIRC).
[quote=“RealityChuck, post:3, topic:720132”]
Thanks for the info! The ubiquitous “thrift store staple” albums seem to indicate that the people who donate to Goodwill hated rock music, too (or maybe are still hanging onto those albums.)
My parents faithfully watched Mitch Miller. And Lawrence Welk. Which meant that I watched Mitch Miller and Lawrence Welk. Fortunately, they never sang along. It didn’t occur to me at the time that not singing might be odd, but now I’m thankful they didn’t scar me for life.
My best friend lived next door, and his mother watched *Mitch Miller *religiously, and sang along at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, she was not a good singer. In summer, I always knew when the show was on, because my father would go around slamming shut the windows, to avoid hearing her. For some reason, *The Yellow Rose of Texas *has stuck in my memory.
My parents loved to watch Mitch Miller, so I watched. One TV, so of course I did. It’s how I first heard classic old songs, and I really enjoyed it.
A couple of years ago I bought the Christmas album because I remember we had it when it first came out. It makes me think about Christmases at home singing carols.
“The Flintstones” did an homage to Mitch–“Hum Along With Herman.”
Growing up in Baltimore in the '60s-'70s, one of the local AM (Remember AM radio? The hell you do! ) stations spent Labor Day weekend playing the 300 biggest hits; IIRC, Mitch Miller’s “Yellow Rose of Texas” was always in the top 10 or 20.
The “big record compan(y)” Miller was VP of during the 50s was Columbia. Also, early rockers weren’t the only ones who thought Miller was a square. Frank Sinatra blamed him for almost wrecking his recording career by saddling him with hack material and novelty records.
I remember this from when I was young. My parents had a couple of the records and we all knew all the words. And we would all sing along together when we were in the car. Four children, two adults, I’m sure it was awful, but it was fun for us.
I remember when SAwM was on NBC (in living color, yet). It was almost impossible to escape at least hearing (if not watching) the show at some time or other, while at the neighbors’ or in a hotel lobby f’rinstance. (Yes, they used to keep big TV sets in hotel lobbies for the guests to watch, before each room had one.)
Because I was such an Army/military history buff, I always associated Mitch with this theme:
) stations spent Labor Day weekend playing the 300 biggest hits; IIRC, Mitch Miller’s “Yellow Rose of Texas” was always in the top 10 or 20.
