The Comedy of Errors: The Capris - There’s a Moon Out Tonight (22 May 1992)

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It’s a curious quirk of timing that shortly after this blog has covered Peel’s favourite ever song, we now come to consider one of the most important songs in his life.  Like Teenage Kicks, this 1960 slice of doo-wop was included by him on his 2002 FabricLive compilation.  Indeed, if like me, your first hearing of it was on that album, it’s impossible not to listen to the final drum beat on There’s a Moon Out Tonight without expecting to hear it immediately cue up this.

As is often the case with doo-wop, you’re paying for charm and loveliness in lieu of any great profundity.  The Capris originally wrote and recorded the song in 1958 and signed the rights over to two men who wanted to manage them with the promise of wider exposure.  Inevitable silence followed and the group disbanded.  As tenor Frank Reina tells it, in 1960 he was driving to work with the radio on only to hear to his amazement, a disc jockey called Alan Fredericks playing it on the radio.  The track caught the imagination of the public landing at number 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1961.  Despite being a quintet of Italian-American New Yorkers, The Capris’ sound was rooted in a more African-American style.  This led to them getting booked to play in front of black-only crowds in some states including a memorable date in Washington, where they found themselves as the only white act on a bill with  Aretha Franklin and Ike and Tina Turner.  There was to be no follow-up hit though the group has continued to perform live up to the present day and their 1982 composition, The Morse Code of Love garnered a lot of attention only for CBS Records to wimp out on giving it a big release.  Who knows, Peel could have ended up introducing them on an edition of Top of the Pops had that record caught on internationally.

While Peel may have taken care not to over-expose Teenage Kicks once it became recognised as his favourite song, he admitted that he struggled to contain himself when it came to There’s a Moon Out Tonight.  On this night’s programme, he reckoned it was no more than 6 months since he had previously played it. I feel that its enduring appeal to him relates to the time and circumstances in which he heard it: as an Englishman in the United States absorbing a culture of hops and warm moonlit evenings that he would have struggled to find in Heswall.  Furthermore, after spending many years exclusively in male company, either through attending public school or doing National Service, America represented his first prolonged exposure to women.  At 20 years old on arrival in Texas, he was keen to make up for lost time, but was clearly sensitive enough to know that the rhythm and blues/straight blues records that he was buying may not be suitable for romantic assignations.  In the period where he was still just John Ravenscroft, office worker and insurance salesman, There’s a Moon Out Tonight was a perfect record for those days of drive-ins, Impalas and opportunities for sex: “The lucky woman was lying on her sofa as I tussled with her, and after thirty seconds or so, I opened my eyes to enjoy the look of ecstasy I expected to see on her face.  She had her head tipped sideways and with her left hand was leafing through a magazine on the adjoining coffee table.” (John Peel - Margrave of the Marshes (2005) p.184-185, published by Corgi).

Video courtesy of Miss Ellie.