Actually, the song was written by the team of Phil Spector, Jeff Barry, and Ellie Greenwich. It was an experiment of Phil Spector's, designed for his protégé group, the Ronettes, and it has become legendary as the pioneer song for the influential recording technique Spector termed his "wall of sound." But Phil Spector is a depraved murderer, so I will not be delving into his profile much here. His work does, however, make more unavoidable appearances in my series. Screw him.
My wife introduced this song to me (she introduced a lot of great music to me), and it embodies some of the great '60s pop music she and her mother love. For Jill, I think it is inextricably linked to Dirty Dancing. It is not just a fantastic song; it evokes a time period in American life that is seductively simplified in my mind. I think of kids straight out of The Sandlot pushing each other into the public pool, this song crackling on the PA system, the smell of hamburgers in the air. I think of Henry and Karen Hill enjoying the best of their aluminum Christmas tree good times in Goodfellas before Jimmy's ultimate heist falls apart.
Beyond that, the song is a true musical marvel. The opening drum rhythm is instantly identifiable, with such glamorous long echo. The vocal has such raw attitude; I hear this East Coast gal singing with sarcasm and cracking gum. The construction is classical purity: The music starts in on a one-chord vamp, establishing the lushness of all the many sounds in the recording before the song begins to find direction. All the changes are designed to build to the huge resolution of the chorus. These days, choruses just kind of happen. There is no courtship. In the early 1960s, you still had to coax a chorus into existence. "Be My Baby" is a master class. The dynamics build, the chords are arranged for progressive tension, the melody peaks, and then in a truly joyful moment of consummation, the chorus erupts with the multiple voices of the Ronettes, imploring their listener to be their baby. The chorus is so, so catchy.
I wish we could all live together in that chorus for all time.
But we can't.