“Marseille,” The Angels
Back in the 90s I got minorly hooked on the UltraLounge series, which served up platters of musical cheese from the late-50s, early-60s — tunes my parents recalled with a cringe. One of the more respectable collections was Wild, Cool & Swingin', which featured such semi-respectable hip-cats as Bobby Darin, Peggy Lee, Nat King Cole along with a couple of members from the Rat Pack. “Sinatra looms large over this collection,” read the liner notes, addressing the elephant in the room who clearly did NOT want to be associated with this rabble, “even in his absence.”
Similarly, you could argue that AC/DC looms large over this collection. In 79-80 there was no escaping their one-two punch of Highway To Hell and Back In Black. Thirty years' on, it seems you can't drop a puck or let the daycare out for the weekend without hearing the title tracks of the Mutt Lange albums. So no (more) AC/DC from me.
You'll get their touring compatriots instead. The Angels were Aussie, and appear to have been on good terms with the tiny terrors. As with Acca-Dacca, they frequently defaulted to a simplified Chuck Berry riff. But, college lads that they were, they couldn't help dressing it up just a tad. Thus singer Doc Neeson garnishes his pining for France's own Sin City with a little pidgin French, directed toward an unsuspecting “Mademoiselle” on the promenade. It slays me every time I hear it — rather like Mrs. Miller, that way.
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