Nobody quite knew what that sound was, but likely they didn’t care. Although the guitars, bass and drums play a simple song, the bridge is filled in not by a guitar solo, and not by saxophone, but rather by an ocarina, a small hand-held clay flute from South America. An unknown, mangy unkempt group of angry musicians from England that took all that passion, all that sex and artistry and creative vision and threw it at the wall and came away with “Wild Thing.” The Beatles had taken American by storm.Īnd then came The Troggs. Buddy Holly had hiccuped his way through Ed Sullivan and skating rink and backyard barn shows. Chuck Berry had broken through the color barrier as he “duck-walked” across the stage playing his tight, wiry guitar licks. Elvis Presley had already gyrated his hips on national television. “Wild Thing” is a part of the continuum, a link in the chain that cannot be repacked.
This power pop explosion of misogyny and confusion is exceedingly simple, but we are enticed by the rhythm, by the pounding of the drum, and the long pauses as we wait to hear what comes after the words “I love you.” The drum is keeping time with the bass and the guitar on the simplest of all melodies. There is a single fuzzy, buzzy guitar banging out the rhythm while lead singer Reg Presley belts out the scratchy lyrics, such as they are.
The version released by The Troggs in April, 1966 is a summation of all rock and roll that came before it, and a blueprint for all that would come after. Their version is fine, but it lacks the power and ferocity of the cover version that be released by The Troggs only six months later. “Wild Thing” was written by Chip Taylor, and originally released by the Wild Ones. I’m just being crazy and sensational? Not a chance.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you what may be the finest, most energetic, creative, passionate and sophisticated song in the modern era of rock and roll music.
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