Rooftop Singers – The Best of the Vanguard Years

Christopher Guest’s 2003 satirical film A Mighty Wind affectionately spoofed three real-life ’60s folk luminaries: the Kingston Trio (the Folksmen), the New Christy Minstrels (New Main Street Singers) and the duo of Ian & Sylvia (Mitch & Mickey). Satirizing the Rooftop Singers wouldn’t have been so easy.

The Rooftops — Erik Darling, Bill Svanoe and Lynne Taylor — had one hit single: a 1963 reworking of the 1929 Gus Cannon Jug Stompers’ ditty “Walk Right In”. That lineup might seem a clone of Peter, Paul & Mary, but this 27-track sampler from their two Vanguard LPs (with four unissued numbers) proves they were the antithesis of PP&M.

Darling, a former member of both the Weavers and the Tarriers, and his pal Svanoe formed the group as a studio act in 1962. They went outside the box by adding Taylor, a jazz chanteuse who sang with the Benny Goodman and Buddy Rich orchestras.

Vanguard recorded an entire Rooftop Singers LP featuring the trio backed by a jazz rhythm section. “Walk Right In” differed from other folk hits; American Bandstand dancers could work out to its rocking, 12-string guitar-heavy arrangement. Soon, the Rooftops reunited to tour, and the elderly, impoverished Cannon reaped an unexpected windfall. Indeed, there’s far more to this story than reissue co-producer/annotator Dave Samuelson could fit into the space for his newly researched notes.

Often misunderstood at the time, the Rooftops’ rich blend of folk, blues and gospel and its jazzy edge went over many heads. It’s unlikely Joan Baez fans could gauge their rendition of Duke Ellington’s “It Don’t Mean A Thing” or their jazzed-up version of “Linin’ Track”, a field holler they rechristened as “Hey Boys”. R&B overtones graced “Froggy Went A-Courtin'”. “I’ve Been Working On The Railroad” swung. Even folk tunes had different twists. Taylor reinvented “Wild Mountain Thyme” as sultry cabaret. And when they did play a folk tune, like “Risselty Rosselty”, it came out bent — in that case acerbic and even mocking.

While the Rooftops lasted until 1968, Taylor, dominated by an abusive, psycho husband, departed in mid-1964, and her replacements never recaptured the same blend. Taylor’s troubled life ended with her 1979 suicide. Svanoe became an acclaimed playwright and screenwriter; Darling became a family counselor. No matter. This reissue affirms that by refusing to pander to the often thick-headed collegiate coffeehouse folk crowds of the early ’60s, the Rooftops’ urbane hipness epitomized the term “too smart for the room.”