OKEH 6932; NOVEMBER 1952

 

Yesterday we looked at a song trying to poke fun at rock ‘n’ roll’s supposed simplicity that missed its mark because there was no audience for it.

In other words, the adult white middle-class rock-hater who’ll be such a vocal critic of the music in a few years time wasn’t even aware of its existence yet to appreciate – and agree with – the send up being done by Mickey Baker. Meanwhile the only constituency that might actually hear it, rock fans themselves, would either think it was just a badly done song, or else they’d be offended by the inference which was making fun of them for liking the genre in the first place.

Today though we have an artist whose humor was always a staple of their act who are trying to use that humor to off-set the raciness of the subject… sort of a wink and a nod routine where you know what it means but we’re all supposed to pretend we don’t.

The problem is they, like Baker before them, seem oblivious to the fact that to actually be funny you have to make it a lot more obvious who you’re mocking in the process.

Instead The Treniers do nothing here but placate the very people that should be most outraged by what they’re singing about.
 

‘Til I Get Weak In The Knees
If you don’t know what it means… what it REALLY means, that is… I can sum up your problem in one sentence.

You’re wasting your time reading about music when you should be spending that time trying to hook up with a girl. I’m guessing you’ll fail at that attempt, but hey, at least you’ll be making an effort, which is more than we can say about The Treniers on this record.

Oh don’t get me wrong, the mere fact they’re singing a song called Poon-Tang! and managed to get it released on a record stocked on store shelves rather than having it kept under the counter alongside the Redd Foxx comedy routines, was a pretty big deal in 1952… I’ll grant you that much.

But apparently in order to do so they had to go to such great lengths to make sure that censors couldn’t possibly believe they were actually referring to the female genitalia and the act of procuring it, that they negated the very thing they’re trying to be so cutting edge in singing about!

It’s kind of like doing a stage play with a nude scene but shutting off all the lights before the actors take their clothes off. I mean, what’s the point then?

Well, when it comes to The Treniers we unfortunately know what the point is… and it’s definitely not to make us, the rock fan, happy. Instead it’s to provide them with material that will make the stodgy middle-aged patrons for their live show happy by getting them to think they’re indulging in something rather racy when in fact if they find it naughty or funny it’s only revealing that none of them have gotten the real thing – with the lights on, the shades up and the windows open – in a long, long time.
 

Marooned On Island
A few months back we reviewed one of the more notorious off-color rock songs of the era, one that due to a surprising revival of it by Chuck Berry which inexplicably gave him his only #1 chart hit years after his heyday, has had quite the backlash attached to it.

That song, Dave Bartholomew’s My Ding-A-Ling, is kind of silly but it’s far more clever, and far more provocative than this one is, even if the subject matter of today’s record – in its unexpurgated form at least – would still be considered more offensive, provided it didn’t pull its punches like it does.

What made the Bartholomew song work was that it didn’t hide what it was about, and certainly didn’t try and deny it outright, but rather it made a joke out of it by using the perspective of children exploring their bodies in an innocent way while attaching it to a nursery rhyme melody to further take the onus off it.

That it was being done by a grown man to amuse listeners who’ve reached puberty themselves is what made it delightfully perverse, even if you do find it a little sophomoric to listen to more than once.

By contrast The Treniers aren’t even that clever, or rather the Broadway based white songwriters who gave them this song aren’t that clever, as the only thrill to them is that know they have in Poon-Tang a word that is completely off-limits in 1952, while the references to what specifically they’re after regarding that topic might even get them locked up in some communities. As a result they feel that the only way they can forge ahead with it is by completely refuting every edgy suggestive taboo element of it by outright insisting that “poon means hug and tang means kiss”, which fails as both an excuse and as a musical device.

While it’s understandable they need to come up with an alternative explanation if they’re going to try and describe the meaning, they’ve chosen something that while innocent enough is too close to the actual definition (mild foreplay rather than copulation) to be funny. If they suggested it meant something completely outlandish then everyone listening would know what it really meant but would be laughing at the ridiculous alternative meaning.

Once laughing at it, they’re implicated by it and thus can’t complain that it’s violating any moral codes because it’s their own dirty minds that saw through the explanation and immediately imagined the worst.

The other failing here is that in trying to convince you that it entails nothing more than mild smooching, they’ve blown their chance to at least aurally suggest otherwise by playing like sex-crazed maniacs in the breaks. Don Hill’s sax solo is all high-pitched squealing, as if he too is frustrated that he can’t even get his fly unzipped!

Had they instead turned the narrative into a joke at their own expense… for instance if they’d played innocent themselves and had a woman suggest letting them sample her Poon-Tang which gets them excited because they think it means an ice cream sundae or a game of canasta or something, only to find out differently when she starts undressing which led right into a wild honking sax solo with drums crashing and screams of ecstasy behind it… well, that’d be a lot more subversive.

How could anyone lodge a formal complaint then if the lyrics spelled out something totally innocent while the music was the only thing suggestive about it all. That’d force the critics themselves to spell out precisely what they thought it meant instead, thereby putting the onus entirely on the listener, allowing The Treniers to have a much more lascivious and musically exciting record while at the same time finding a loophole to skirt obscenity laws.

Instead they work so hard to talk you into their G-rated alternative meaning that they actually wind up convincing you that the most you’ll be getting out of this record is a peck on the cheek. Frankly even that outcome would get a bigger rise out of most people than this record would.
 

Singing A Song To A Goose
Sometimes, if you know you may be a charlatan, it’s best not to draw undue attention to your shortcomings in that area so you’re allowed to continue with the masquerade.

We won’t go so far as to say The Treniers were out and out frauds, their music was too closely aligned with rock to not grant them entry in the field, but we will say they were a group who used the music’s negative image as a promotional tool for their stage shows which is where they had their biggest following.

That means their primary audience were far outside the rock constituency, yet their record label, OKeh, were pitching their singles at the rock fan because those more well-heeled live patrons weren’t prolific enough to rely on for sales.

With Poon-Tang! they definitely had a topic and title that would draw any self-respective true rock fan’s attention, but once you laid your money down and heard how they didn’t even try and deliver on its lewd possibilities you’d be disappointed enough to write the group off altogether.

I believe the related sexual term appropriate here would be to call the group “prick teasers”.

Let them see to try and come up with a song based on that saying, because by now they’ve sure put out enough records that fit the bill when it comes to that term.
 
 
SPONTANEOUS LUNACY VERDICT:

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
(Visit the Artist page of The Treniers for the complete archive of their records reviewed to date)