The calendar flips to November 14th, and for a certain kind of music aficionado, a memory stirs—the slightly manic energy, the horn-rimmed glasses, the famously awkward, joyous stage dance. It is the birthday of Freddie Garrity (1936-2006), the unforgettable frontman of Freddie and the Dreamers, a band whose name became synonymous with the lighter, more whimsical side of the British Invasion. Their music, with hits like “I’m Telling You Now,” was all bright melody and clean-cut fun.
But today, on his birthday, I want to talk about a darker, rawer twin—a piece of music that shares the year 1965 but belongs to a totally different world: The Rolling Stones’ blistering cover of Barbara Lynn’s “Oh Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin’).” This track, nestled deep in the American version of their album The Rolling Stones, Now!, is a masterclass in interpretive performance, one that perfectly illustrates the divergent paths British R&B took in the mid-sixties.
We have, on the one hand, Freddie Garrity: a former milkman whose band’s appeal was rooted in accessible, almost novelty pop and an endearing, local charm. On the other, The Rolling Stones: the gritty, blues-obsessed acolytes of Chess Records, whose genius lay in harnessing American rhythm and blues and exporting it back, amplified and distorted. Lynn’s original song is pure Gulf Coast soul, a swaying, deceptively simple expression of devotion. The Stones’ version takes that simple joy and sets it on fire.
The Gritty Heart of Now!
The year 1965 was a volatile, defining moment in The Rolling Stones’ career. They were moving swiftly from mere copyists to confident originals. Produced by Andrew Loog Oldham, The Rolling Stones, Now! (the U.S. release) served as a powerful declaration of their blues allegiance, even as their own songwriting began to take precedence.
“Oh Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin’)” sits among classics like “Pain in My Heart” and the Jagger/Richards original “Heart of Stone.” Its inclusion is a deep bow to the foundational Black American music that fueled their entire artistic premise. Unlike the polished pop of many of their contemporaries, The Stones prioritized grit, and this track is a prime example of their aesthetic in full, unvarnished bloom.
The recording is instantly recognizable for its raw, uncluttered sound. It’s an urgent, two-minute sprint where every instrument fights for dominance in a compressed, slightly claustrophobic mix. This lack of polish, this palpable room feel, is exactly what defined their early studio aesthetic and is a detail collectors appreciate when listening on studio headphones.
Sound, Sweat, and the Guitar Attack
Mick Jagger’s vocal is the focal point, a torrent of youthful urgency, slightly strained and full of swagger. He doesn’t just sing the lyric; he attacks it, injecting a nervous, slightly manic energy that contrasts sharply with the smooth confidence of Barbara Lynn’s original. This intensity became the blueprint for countless rock vocalists who followed, proving that energy could triumph over technical perfection.
The rhythm section—Bill Wyman on bass and Charlie Watts on drums—is an absolute marvel of minimalist propulsion. Watts keeps a tight, driving beat, leaning into the backbeat with a dry, punchy snare sound that anchors the track without ever cluttering the space. Wyman’s bass lines are deceptively simple, providing a muscular foundation that allows the guitars to snarl above.
And then there are the guitars. Keith Richards and Brian Jones treat their instruments not as delicate tools for melody, but as sonic weapons. The guitar work here is essential to the song’s success, defined by a sharp, cutting tone. There’s an insistent, almost frantic strumming that drives the pace, combined with a brief, stinging guitar solo that is less about technical virtuosity and more about pure sonic texture. The treble is cranked, the attack is sharp, and the notes cut through the mix like shards of glass. This style, raw and rhythmically focused, became their signature, influencing legions of rock bands who learned to value feel over flash.
It is worth noting the complete absence of a piano or any orchestral embellishment. This isn’t the baroque pop that was simultaneously emerging; this is pure, undiluted rock and roll derived directly from the blues framework. The simple guitar riff, the driving rhythm, and the frantic vocal create a piece of music that is immediate and physically engaging.
“The greatest joy of The Stones’ early covers is hearing them take the sophistication of American R&B and distill it into a perfect, frantic, two-minute rock and roll pill.”
The Legacy of the Jump
Freddie Garrity, for his part, was always the showman, the engaging entertainer whose physical comedy and enthusiasm transcended the material. The contrast between his effervescent stage act—the famous “Freddie” dance—and The Stones’ grim, blues-soaked image perfectly encapsulates the split in the British Invasion itself: the wholesome pop merchants versus the dark, dangerous traditionalists.
Yet, there is a connection. Both acts understood the power of simple, direct communication. Freddie achieved it through light-hearted simplicity, giving his audience an immediate, unchallenging joy. The Stones achieved it through primitive, aggressive musicality, giving their audience a visceral, challenging thrill. Neither approach required the dense theory found in sheet music; they were songs built to be played loudly in crowded, smoky clubs.
Thinking of Freddie on his birthday today brings me back to the vibrant, chaotic scene from which both emerged. He never achieved the lasting critical reverence of The Stones, but his impact on popular culture—his sheer, unadulterated fun—was undeniable. This 1965 track by The Stones, so far removed from Freddie’s own style, is a powerful reminder of the incredible musical ferment of that era, where a small, punchy R&B song could be interpreted in radically different ways. It reminds us that sometimes, the most enduring rock music is not the complex, self-conscious album statement, but the quick, violent cover that pays tribute to the past while kicking the door down to the future.
This song is not a deep cut in the modern sense; it’s a foundational text. It is a key to understanding why The Rolling Stones were seen as the definitive “anti-Beatles” and why their allegiance to raw, amplified R&B established a new, long-lasting rock aesthetic.
Listening Recommendations: Songs of Raw R&B and British Beat Urgency
- Barbara Lynn – “Oh Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin’)” (1964): The exquisite, soulful original; a study in contrast and source material.
- The Animals – “Boom Boom” (1964): Features a similar dedication to raw, amplified R&B, driven by a simple, propulsive guitar riff.
- The Beatles – “Twist and Shout” (1963): Captures the raw, throat-shredding energy of an early cover, prioritizing performance and excitement over studio gloss.
- The Yardbirds – “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl” (1964): Early British blues-rock that shares the Stones’ raw intensity and devotion to Chicago blues legends.
- The Dave Clark Five – “Bits and Pieces” (1964): Another British beat act, albeit less blues-focused, that generates huge energy through a relentless, driving rhythmic attack.
- The Pretty Things – “Don’t Bring Me Down” (1964): Embodies the same snarling, aggressive, and garage-like sound as The Stones’ deepest R&B covers from this period.