The lunkhead inarticulateness and primitive musicality of “Wild Thing” as performed by The Troggs, that perfect distillation of rock & roll idiocy that has proven so central to the basic cultural vocabulary that few people who have lifted an electric guitar can resist bashing it out (from Hendrix and The Ventures, to Springsteen and Petty, to Jeff Beck and Cheap Trick, to Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde), is probably the reason Chip Taylor is being inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame this year, and I can’t argue that “Wild Thing” alone wouldn’t be sufficient grounds for his recognition. The Troggs’ version was a cover (it was done first by a group called The Wild Ones, famed for being the house band at the ‘60s discotheque Arthur), but it’s definitive; it stomps and lurches around, and singer Reg Presley enters with a leering whine: “Wild Thing,” he addresses the girl in his field of vision, “you make my heart sing. You make everything groovy.” He could be on the street, or in a pub, possibly she’s a complete stranger, but no matter. He thinks he loves her, but his feelings need confirmation by proximity, by physical contact. How can he be certain, until his body is pressed against hers? He’s not that demanding. She embraces him, we assume, and presto: “I love you.” He is a man of not much complexity, or many demands. There are two things he requests: “Come on and hold me tight” and, later, “Shake it, shake it.” The sweet nothings of seduction.
Taylor’s “Wild Thing” is central to his legacy. Other worthy covers: X, Warren Zevon, Le Pecore Nere (in Spanish, as “Torna”), Senator Bobby. Jeff Buckley fooled around with it on his home demos, doing it as a Dylan impression, Liz Phair did a revamped version, and if you want a peek into the depths of hair-rock hell as foisted upon the world by MTV, there is “Wild Thing” bellowed by Sam Kinison, accompanied by rockers chanting the hook, and the writhing of Jessica Hahn. Future generations will look upon this stupefied, wondering why this seemingly homeless psychopath is screaming, why he’s being egged on by a chorus of dumb-looking pretty boys, and whether this poor inflated woman is a hostage. But this artifact aside, “Wild Thing” has had an impressive half-century, and if it’s responsible for getting Taylor into the Hall of Fame, that’s good news.
Because Taylor has a cluster of other memorable songs. When “Angel of the Morning” got on the radio in 1968 by Merrilee Rush & The Turnabouts – the original, better single was by Evie Sands – it was as startling in its much quieter way as “Wild Thing” was a couple of years earlier. It’s so matter-of-fact about sex without agenda, and to hear a woman plainly tell the guy he can just slip away after the night with only a touch on the cheek, that was new for pop. “There’ll be no strings to bind your hand,” are the first words of the song, written by Taylor with Al Gorgoni, and Merrilee, and Evie, and all the women who sang it after them (Skeeter Davis, P.P. Arnold, Billie Davis, Juice Newton, Olivia Newton-John, Bonnie Tyler, Mandy Barnett, Bettye Swann, Chrissie Hynde, even Nina Simone) always sound as though they’re still naked under the sheets. ”I see no need to take me home/I’m old enough to face the dawn,” they all say, and it’s not a walk of shame. Maybe there won’t be bright sunlight on her, maybe there will, either way, no worries. It was thrilling stuff for a Top 10 single, the idea that intimacy can be fleeting and guiltless.
Chip Taylor and Evie Sands, most often but not always with Gorgoni, also collaborated on the bold “Any Way That You Want Me” (where Evie offers up love if it’s on the table, but if it’s not, she’s still game, no explanation necessary), on “I Can’t Let Go” (a hit for The Hollies) and such neglected 45s as “Picture Me Gone,” “Run Home To Your Mama” and “You’ve Got Me Uptight.” There are also a few lost Taylor songs (“I’ll Never Be Alone Again,” “Close Your Eyes, Cross Your Fingers,” “Shadow of the Evening,” “I’ll Hold Out My Hand”) on the excellent album Taylor & Gorgoni produced for Evie on A&M, Any Way That You Want Me, an album that sits stylistically somewhere between Dusty In Memphis and Tapestry, but with a late-‘60s New York City-pop texture (a couple of tracks were done in L.A. with the Wrecking Crew). All of those songs, and others like “Try (A Little Bit Harder)” and “Don’t Say It Baby” make for a solid songwriting resume, but I think we can expect a couple of things at June’s Hall of Fame ceremony: a collective hormonal swoon when someone sings “Angel of the Morning,” and a wall-rattling sing along. “Come on and hold me tight. You move me.” That’s all it takes. “Shake it, shake it Wild Thing.”