I had a good day Wednesday. I was really enjoying what I was doing at work, and busted out some classic girl group sounds on my way home. It was a sunny, relatively cool day in Memphis, and traffic wasn’t that bad.
But as I turned the car off of Poplar and on to I-240 to begin my drive in earnest, something terrible happened. I decided I wanted to listen to the news. So I switched the Ronnettes off and “All Things Considered” on.
To hear Neda Ulaby telling me that Ellie Greenwich had died.
Who, you ask, was Ellie Greenwich?
Only the greatest songwriter you’ve never heard of. Songs with her name in the credits include not only “Be My Baby,” but also “Da Do Ron Ron,” “Chapel of Love,” and what is (easily) one of the five greatest songs ever recorded: “Leader of the Pack.”
"Motorcycle Funerals" by Gingerbeardman on Flickr
I felt so helpless, like Betty from the song, what could I do, remembering all that Greenwich’s songs and I have been through?
At work today, they all stopped and stared. I can’t hide the tears, and I don’t care. I’ll never forget you, Ellie Greenwich.
[Is it wrong to be somewhat disappointed that she died peacefully, rather than going out in the dramatic fashion of the girl group subgenre she inspired, the Dead Boyfriend Song?]
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