Sweet girl-group sounds from Lorraine Ellison, riding those slick Lou Courtney production grooves. Somewhere on my shelf there's probably a red-label Mercury copy too. And yes, I can hear the chorus already: "Of course he has one." Did I bother to look for it before posting this? No. No, I did not.
This one bubbled under the Billboard Hot 100 at #103 the year I was born, which feels like one of those strange little cosmic footnotes record collectors live for. Lorraine's career was already fading into history as mine was just beginning. Even stranger, she passed away the year I graduated high school. The record sat quietly between those two milestones, waiting for me to find it decades later.
That's one of the things I love about old 45s. They're tiny time machines. A song misses the charts, disappears into cutout bins and forgotten jukeboxes, and fifty years later some guy is standing in a thrift store holding it up like he's discovered buried treasure.
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