There is a moment in the history of rock and roll—a sliver of time, really—when the underground bursts through the surface, not with an explosion, but with a giddy, infectious shimmy. That moment, late in 1961, belonged entirely to New York City’s Peppermint Lounge, a modest venue on West 45th Street, and its house band, Joey Dee & The Starliters. Their anthem, “Peppermint Twist,” was more than just a song; it was a news bulletin. It was the soundtrack to a cultural phenomenon that saw everyone from Judy Garland to Jackie Kennedy lining up, six-deep, hoping to snag a patch of floor to perform the new dance.
Forget the smooth, manufactured pop of the era. This was raw, sweaty, and immediate. The song’s chart dominance—it eventually dethroned Chubby Checker’s initial “The Twist” for a remarkable three weeks at number one in early 1962—was a testament not just to the irresistible rhythm, but to the sheer force of the live-wire energy Joey Dee bottled and sold to the world.
The Scene: Grit, Glamour, and the Nightclub’s House Band
The Kinks and The Beatles would soon dominate, but in 1961, American rock and roll was in a strange, transitional phase. The Starliters, formed by Joseph DiNicola (Joey Dee), had built their reputation as a solid live act, honing their chops in the New Jersey and New York club circuits. Their big break came when a single, one-weekend gig at the then-unremarkable Peppermint Lounge stretched into a sensational, year-long residency.
This track, officially released as a two-part single on the Roulette Records label, was co-written by Joey Dee and producer Henry Glover. It served as the theme song for the now-legendary club. The record company correctly sensed that the buzz—the mounted police, the celebrity clientele—was too potent to ignore. They weren’t selling an album so much as a moment, a ticket to the most exclusive, yet democratically chaotic, dance floor in Manhattan. The actual full-length album that followed, Doin’ the Twist at the Peppermint Lounge, featured the song, often in a slightly rougher, live-recorded context.
It’s crucial to understand the context of the band’s career arc at this point. They were pure journeymen, their musicianship forged by countless hours in dimly lit clubs. Later iterations of The Starliters would famously include future members of The (Young) Rascals and even Jimi Hendrix on guitar for a brief period in the mid-1960s, a wild fact that underscores the band’s role as an unlikely crucible for rock talent.
The Sound: The Riff, The Shout, The Kick
The intro of “Peppermint Twist (Part 1)” is pure sonic adrenaline. It kicks off with a four-beat drum fill from Willie Davis—sharp, dry, and right in your face—immediately setting a feverish tempo. The recording quality, particularly on the single version, is clean enough to convey the excitement but still carries a delightful, untamed aggression. This isn’t the polished sound of California; it’s the sound of a cramped stage and a sweat-soaked room.
The essential bedrock of the song is the relentless rhythm section and the insistent, blues-derived guitar riff, typically attributed to Sam Taylor. That riff, a short, driving figure, repeats maniacally, never letting the energy dip. It is the perfect, unadorned sonic engine for the dance floor, a masterclass in economy. The instrumentation is classic early rock and roll—drums, bass, guitar, and the soulful piano and organ work, likely provided by Carlton Lattimore, which adds a crucial layer of New Orleans-style rhythm and blues swagger.
The lead vocal, delivered with joyous urgency by David Brigati, is a straight-up instruction manual and hype-man monologue rolled into one. “Well, they’ve got a new dance, and it goes like this… Yeah, the name of the dance is Peppermint Twist!” He’s the host, shouting over the din, inviting you to join the frenzy. The backing vocals, a simple “bop shoo-op, a bop bop shoo-op,” are a primal, doo-wop echo, a simple melodic device that locks the repetitive rhythm into your memory. For those starting their musical journey, trying to play this on sheet music highlights how much of this song’s life comes from its feel, not its complex notation.
“The genius of the ‘Peppermint Twist’ isn’t its sophistication, but its unapologetic simplicity: it is pure, kinetic demand set to a perfect rhythm.”
Crucially, the song adheres to the standard 12-bar blues form, but its high tempo, bright, close-mic’d drum sound, and minimal reverb push it away from traditional blues and toward the nascent garage-rock aesthetic. It’s rock and roll distilled into a single, kinetic command. You simply must dance to this piece of music. The famous “one, two, three, kick, one, two, three, jump” break gives dancers a moment of organized chaos before the riff slams back in.
The Legacy of The Twist: Why This Track Matters
The commercial success of “Peppermint Twist” ensured that the Twist craze was not a fleeting fashion but a foundational shift in how people danced to popular music. It gave license to movement that was individual, not coupled. This song, along with Chubby Checker’s, essentially invented the modern concept of non-contact, expressive dancing in rock venues, a cultural change whose impact cannot be overstated.
For Joey Dee, it was the absolute peak. They followed it up with the popular “Shout (Part 1),” also pulled from the Doin’ the Twist live recordings, but nothing matched the sheer cultural footprint of the Twist. The track became inextricably linked to the place and the moment, a permanent relic of New York nightlife where aristocracy rubbed shoulders—or twisted hips—with ordinary patrons.
One summer, I remember loading the original mono single of this song into a vintage jukebox. The crackle, the sudden surge of the rhythm, and the immediate, involuntary toe-tap it induced were more instructive than any history book. It was a visceral reminder of the power of a simple, perfect, three-minute party starter. While the song is often overshadowed in rock history by the British Invasion acts who came shortly after, it remains a vital document of the moment when rock and roll became truly, physically, inescapable in America’s cultural centers.
And as for Freddie Garrity (1936-2006)? There appears to be no verifiable recording connection between the Manchester showman of Freddie and the Dreamers and the American Twist kings Joey Dee & The Starliters in 1961. The title in the prompt is a sweet, but inaccurate, combination of two distinct 1960s musical universes. Freddie Garrity, with his manic, comic stage presence, would later bring his own distinct, energetic flavor of British beat music to the world—a different, but equally infectious, kind of musical joy.
Listening Recommendations: Songs of Dance, Rhythm, and Early Rock Energy
- Chubby Checker – “The Twist” (1960): The definitive, foundational Twist track that started the entire global dance craze.
- The Isley Brothers – “Shout” (1959): Joey Dee and The Starliters covered this song with great success, and the original shares the same gospel-infused, cathartic energy.
- Little Eva – “The Loco-Motion” (1962): Another chart-topping dance instructional song from the same era, built on a simple, driving rhythm.
- The Contours – “Do You Love Me” (1962): Raw, frantic Motown that captures the chaotic, call-and-response live energy of a great early rock band.
- Chris Kenner – “I Like It Like That (Part 1)” (1961): Shares the same New Orleans-R&B-meets-pop feel and simple, infectious hook.
You can listen to the original hit version of the song here: Joey Dee & The Starliters – Peppermint Twist (1961).