Reader Thomas from Marginal REVOLUTION sent me the linked article piece, which shows a video of the 1957 doo-wop hit “Little Darlin'” by the Diamonds. If you’re my age, you’ll remember it. I always thought it was a serious song, and apparently so did most Americans, but the first comment says this:
From what I recall, the Diamonds were a conventional vocal group who recorded “Little Darlin'” at the end of a session as a kind of joke song – a parody of the Ink Spots and Mills Brothers. Fortunately for them, the studio musicians joined in with perfectly irresistible beat and the song became a rock and roll hit. Early rock and roll was born as parody as much as anything else, like Elvis’s Jokey rendition of Bill Monroe’s “Blue Moon of Kentucky” turning out to be the founding document of rockabilly.
Really? And then they present the video, which, unlike any music video I know from that era, shows the group clowning around. Have a look at the video for a hit song (more cowbell!). But yes, this is the original song. which went to #2 on the Billboard charts.
To get to the bottom of this, I sent to AI, in particular Grok. Sure enough, the bot pronounced it a parody after scanning what’s published about it.
“Was “Little Darlin'” by the Diamonds a parody song?”
Yes, “Little Darlin'” by The Diamonds (1957) is widely regarded as a stylistic parody/satire of the doo-wop genre—not a lyrical parody like a Weird Al track (the words and melody are the same), but a deliberately exaggerated, campy cover that poked fun at the over-the-top clichés of the style.Here’s the story, straight from music historians:
- The song was written by 16-year-old Maurice Williams and first recorded in January 1957 by his group The Gladiolas (on the Excello label). Their version was a straight, heartfelt R&B/doo-wop track with a Latin-tinged rhythm, falsetto, spoken bridge, and percussion. It charted modestly (#11 R&B, minor pop crossover).
- The Diamonds (a Canadian quartet) rushed out their cover just a month later on Mercury Records. It was reportedly a last-minute, end-of-session lark—they had about 15 minutes left, no drummer, so they improvised with castanets. Lead singer Dave Somerville and the group leaned hard into the nonsense syllables (“ai-ya-yi-yai-yai-ya,” “wella-wella,” etc.), hamming it up with theatrical flair. They even performed it in an over-the-top way on TV (like The Steve Allen Show).
AllMusic critic Stephen Thomas Erlewine noted that the vocal phrases “verge on self-parody… which may be why The Diamonds’ version is superior.” Radio historian John Gilliland (on the Pop Chronicles series) explicitly stated that their recording “was in fact a parody of the genre.” Other sources describe it as a “joke song,” “satire of doo-wop,” or “intended as a satire” with “campy vocal delivery.”Despite (or because of) the tongue-in-cheek approach, it became a monster hit: #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 for eight weeks (behind only Elvis’s “All Shook Up”), the biggest version by far, and now the definitive classic. The original Gladiolas take is respected by R&B fans but far less known.It’s a classic example of a white cover version (common in the 1950s) that amplified the style for mainstream appeal—here with humor that stuck. Later, Elvis Presley covered the Diamonds’ arrangement on his final album Moody Blue, and Joan Baez even recorded an actual lyrical parody.
From Wikipedia, we learn that the hit version was actually a re-recording of a song recorded just a month earlier by a black group, the Gladiolas, one of whose members wrote the song. There’s also a brief not about the parody aspect:
It was written by a 16-year-old Maurice Williams with both melody and doo-wop accompaniment strongly emphasizing a calypso rhythm. First recorded in January 1957 by Williams’ group the Gladiolas, it was quickly released as a single on Excello Records, a small swamp blues label owned by Nashville record man Earnie Young, who was responsible for creating the song’s Latin feel, naming the group and ensuring Williams would retain the song’s publishing.
The recording, inspired by a book Williams was writing, and originally called “Little Darlin’/ The Beginning,” is noted for its trademark doo-wop falsetto by Fred Mangum and its spoken bridge by Williams (“My Darlin’ I need you …”). The Gladiolas were from Lancaster, South Carolina, where they had been together since high school.
The Diamonds‘ successful cover version followed a month later. The Diamonds were a Canadian pop group that evolved into a doo-wop group. The Diamonds’ version reached number two in sales for eight weeks on the Billboard Hot 100. Billboard ranked this version as the No. 3 song for 1957. In Canada, the song was No. 11 on the premiere CHUM Chart, May 27, 1957.
The Diamonds’ version is generally considered superior. AllMusic critic Stephen Thomas Erlewine argues that the Diamonds “Little Darlin'” is an unusual example of a cover being better than the original:
[T]he Diamonds’ take remained the bigger hit, and over the years, the better-known version. Normally, this would have been an outrage, but there’s a reason why the Diamonds’ version has sustained its popularity over the years: it’s a better, fiercer recording. Both versions are good, even if they’re a little silly, because it’s a good doo wop song, giving each member of the quartet a lot to do. At times, the vocal phrases verge on self-parody — the “ai-ya-yi-yai-yai-ya”‘s or the “wella-wella”‘s — which may be why The Diamonds’ version is superior.
On the Pop Chronicles, host John Gilliland claimed that their version was in fact a parody of the genre. Nonetheless, “Little Darlin'” (primarily the Diamonds’ version, but to some extent the Gladiolas’ version) remains an all-time rock ‘n roll R&B classic.
Here’s the original version by The Gladiolas, and sure enough, it’s pretty much like the parody (or cover), including the talking interlude. It was not a hit. Is this cultural appropriation?
In the spirit of this being a music thread, I will say:
1) I’m 60, and Little Darlin’ is a song I can’t recall not knowing. A local radio station twice a year played a long weekend program of The Biggest 500 Hits of All Time. Being Canadian, they were required to include Canadian Content. The Crew Cuts, The Diamonds, Paul Anka… lots of early Canadian rock and/or roll was played.
2) This Quebec duo, Angine de Poitrine, is going viral. Rick Beato has asked folks to stop emailing him about them. I like everything about this performance. The skill, the use of technology and costumes, the music, everything. None of what these two musicians are doing could be created by A.I., nor would a record company try to develop an artist like this.
https://youtu.be/0Ssi-9wS1so
Thanks for the link. I’m still a bit mind-blown.
Woa. That was both very weird and very interesting.
Wow
“Weird” is hardly strong enough. And the YouTube comments on the video are equally creative.
Hmm. First, “Little Darlin'” by the Diamonds is one of my favorite Doo-Wop recordings (and I consider myself a minor Doo-Wop fan). I don’t know if I consider it a parody of the Gladiolas’ recording. The thing that seems to be missing from this consideration is the category Race Records. Recordings by black musicians were considered not appropriate for white audiences, and so record companies would have white artists record songs originally done by black artists. An infamous example of this is Pat Boone’s recording of Fats Domino’s “Blueberry Hill.” Another example is the Crew Cuts’ recording of the Chord’s “Sh-boom.” It might have been pure lark, like the Dixie Cups “Iko-Iko”, or it might just have been a way to use the rest of the studio time. In any case the fact of white groups re-recording songs by black groups is well established.
I only learned this year that Blueberry Hill was first recorded in 1940, A full sixteen year before Fats! A bunch of whities did it at the time (Sammy Kaye, Gene Krupa, Glenn Miller, Gene Autry). It was a pretty standard jazz-adjacent pop song. Boone’s recording is definitely a (very toned down) version of Fats’s arrangement.
The Diamonds’ version of Little Darling is not so much a parody of the Maurice Williams original with The Gladiolas as it is a mockery. First, the Diamonds version is a note-for-note cover of the original — the Latin rhythm, the maracas, in fact everything about it. You can see that the Diamonds are poking fun at the original — they ham up the falsetto but particularly they make a joke of the spoken bridge. Why give the Diamonds credit for copying everything from the original version, while making fun of it? The Diamonds version has better recording values but nothing else. It reminds me of Pat Boone’s cover of Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti — it is a “white” version of a black R&B classic. We should give Maurice Williams credit for creating and performing the original, even if the Diamonds’ version on 60s FM radio was the only one you ever heard.
Give me a break. What is the difference between mockery and parody? And I did give Williams credit for the original, didn’t I?
It never occurred to me at the time (I was a kid) that songs could parody a style. The phenomenon of a parody or satirical homage being a shining example of a genre, was repeated when Jethro Tull released ‘Thick as a Brick’ (1972). The album was meant to lampoon progressive rock concept albums. The title meaning ‘dumb as a rock’ and directed at rock critics who described the previous JT album ‘Aqualung’ as a concept album. Ian Anderson didn’t make Aqualung as a concept album. He though the critics were idiots.
Blur’s Song 2 (link) was intended as a joke, a parody of tracks like Nirvana’s Teen Spirit. But then everyone said “this is awesome!”. 😀
When I met the woman who became my wife in 1963 we both decided that Little Darlin was our song. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, brings back memories.
Fascinating insights – and fun. Great sing. It works as…joy-music
I am 81 and grew up on original rock and roll on AM radio.FM became popular for album rock in the mid 60s.
the Diamond’s version has better syncopation, harmony, and quality.
In their revival appearances the small guy always parodied a girl with a hankerchief over his head too.
In 1958 the great Chuck Berry was sent to prison for 3 years for transporting a young girl across state lines.