This goes back a long time, to 2003 to be precise, when it first appeared in issue 28 of ‘Here Be Monsters’ fanzine. I’ve largely kept it exactly as it was, despite the fact that since its publication there have been multiple releases of both the film and soundtrack to ‘Last House on the Left’.
Chewing the fat and the gristle with Mr David Hess……
As careers go, there are few to match the whirling dervish nature of David Hess’s. At once a master songwriter, whatever that phrase may mean to you, latterly or foremostly, depending on whether you read the Daily Mail, the most evil man in film history. How good a songwriter? Over 10 million records sold and winner of two Grammys. How evil? The film in which he made his starring role is still banned in Britain some 30 years on. Hess didn’t break the mould; he pissed on it from a great height.
Hess started his musical career way back in the dusky evening of the fifties, selling his first song, ‘Jelly Bean’, at fifteen. To put this into some context, I was still mourning the loss of my pushchair as my preferred method of transport at fifteen. Frighteningly young and inexperienced ‒ if you can be inexperienced and knock out a catchy tune the way Norman Wisdom can hit the deck and be unfunny – Hill started working as a songwriter for Shalimar Music Publishing in 1957. It was from here that Hess ‒ swiftly rechristened David Hill, for reasons we will discover later, started writing songs alongside the likes of Wally Gold and Aaron Schroeder.
So far, so unremarkable, perhaps, but these songs were sung by Elvis Presley. Note the spelling. I’m not about to reveal that this was some Elvis Presley that sung with some offshoot of The Gits, who changed his name from Miroslav Borowskik, nor played in goal for the Morley Pig Farmer′s Second Eleven. This is the Elvis who changed music forever.
To this end, from the 50s to early 60s, Hess, or Hill, wrote ‘I Got Stung’, also later covered by The Beatles, and still performed by Paul McCartney to the present day, ‘Blue Lagoon’, ‘Frankie and Johnny’, ‘Come Along’, ‘Sandcastles’, and ‘All Shook Up’.
Learned musicologists among you may have suspected some kind of deliberate mistake on my part in that list. ‘All Shook Up’ is credited to that epicentre of Elvis, Otis Blackwell, wherever you care to look. This is true, but there’s no denying, even with my ridiculously clouded view of proceedings, who carries the most clout when it comes down to brass tacks. Blackwell has an armful of songs ready to pop any young buck in the jaw. ‘Return to Sender’, ‘Don’t Be Cruel’, ‘Great Balls of Fire’, ‘Handyman’, the list goes on. Hess wrote the song, Blackwell gets the credit; that’s the way it is, that’s the way it stays. If you’re of the school that feels music today has nothing to do with what it was ten, twenty, thirty, whatever years ago, and the business behind it is only now populated with leeches, weasels and other beasts of the forest, you may wish to keep this in mind.
Another unsung role, if you pardon the pun, came with the very first recording of its ‘It’s Now or Never’, again borrowed, snatched, perchance pillaged by the King. Even Hess can’t claim this is his own, the tune being a reworking of the early 20th century Italian standard ‘O Sole Mio’.
Nevertheless, it often felt to someone to present a more or less finished version of the track to an artist, who had little, if anything, to do with the writing and arrangement of the song, just to give them a crystal-clear idea of how it would sound. Enter stage left Mr Hess, whose version convinced Elvis to take on the track and later confess that it was his favourite song of his to perform.
Further success kept coming. ‘Rockin’ Shoes’ for folkies The Ames Brothers, and ‘Start Movin’ (In My Direction)’ for Sal Mineo. You know Sal Mineo. He was Plato opposite James Dean in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’, though ‘Here Be Monsters’ remembers him best for his role as Dr Milo in ‘Escape from the Planet of the Apes’. The biggest hit outside of the Elvis canon, though, came courtesy of legendary heartthrob, crooner and bonkers loon Pat Boone and ‘Speedy Gonzales’ in 1962. Boone was pretty much the second biggest male star of the 50s and shuffled away like so many of his contemporaries by the time the 60s really got underway. His contemporaries didn’t reappear in the late 90s with leather tattoos and a heavy metal album mag. It’s another story; it’ll have to wait.
‘Speedy Gonzales’ was huge. Enormous, really. Number one, of course, but how many records sell 8 million copies? Combined with the fact that songs like ‘Frankie and Johnny’ had also gone platinum on the back of the Elvis movie, you should be looking at one of the all‑time great songwriters. And really you are, but events conspired in such an odd way that something else managed to overshadow even this. But he wasn’t finished yet. These successes hadn’t completely gone unnoticed by the outside world. It was during this period that Hess shared an apartment with, of all people, Bobby Darin.
From the seagull’s point of view, the mismatch between characters here is as bizarre as it is delicious. They collaborated at least twice, on Darin’s ‘The Feeling’ and ‘Broken Up Inside’.
Thank God Hess didn’t merely settle to stay solely as a songwriter. His musicianship is exceptional, as ably demonstrated on his long‑deleted and highly collectable solo albums, ‘David Hill’ (1959) and ‘Wanted’ (1960). These were both released on the Kapp label, known mostly for its roster of folk and slightly jazzier artists. Though Hess fell largely into the first category, it’s interesting to note that Silver Apples were also based here a little later.
The albums were well received at the time, though they have yet to find their way onto CD. Six singles were released across these two discs, now, predictably, as rare as the proverbial excreta of the wood‑fashioned shire. The most famous of these singles, ‘Two Brothers’, was covered in the coming years by folks such as Dusty Springfield and Tom Jones, though Hess’s original holds the upper hand, landing him a top ten hit. Hess also played live during this period, usually in the many folk clubs in the New York area. His temper led to at least one occasion where guitars and equipment were smashed as frustration got the better of him.
By 1969, Hess had landed himself the role of Head of A&R at Mercury Records in New York. This led to him co‑writing (allegedly), alongside John Corigliano, the rock opera ‘The Naked Carmen’. Again, this was very well received, certainly critically, winning Corigliano a Grammy. Later in the year, Hess wrote an album for the Irish actor Malachy McCourt called ‘And the Children Toll the Passing of the Day’, a case of two different artistic worlds colliding perhaps, but three years later Hess himself would have straddled both, virtually obliterating his musical career. How could a man with such an illustrious songwriting career manage to overshadow such a legacy?
To misquote Grandpa Simpson, the story of ‘Last House on the Left’ (1972) is as long as it is rambling. There’s a good book on the film by David A. Szulkin. The facts of the matter are these. Approached by a friend, Martin Cove – later himself to play a cop in the film – Hess auditioned for a part in a film by upcoming directors Wes Craven and Sean Cunningham. He won a part – not just any part, mind you, but the lead, and a part that would become lore in the horror movie genre. I’m afraid I can’t/won’t now write several pages discussing the movie. I couldn’t change this from a music zine to a film zine, no matter how many crowbars you supplied me with.
Suffice to say that the premise of the film is based entirely on updating the classic Bergman film, ‘The Virgin Spring’ (1960). Hess to play the part of Krug Stillo, the top baddie. On top of this, Hess also volunteered his songwriting skills to Craven, despite not having any background in scoring as such, certainly not films. Craven agreed, and asked one of his former pupils, Steve Chapin, to assist in arranging Hess’s compositions and filling in any gaps in the film. Incidental music, essentially.
Much of Hess’s contributions were excised due to them being too long for the segments they were to fit. Even the master of the two-and-a-half-minute pop song couldn’t resist going a little too far. Extra tracks such as the brilliant ‘Promise Land’ have already been issued on the definitive soundtrack. The soundtrack itself stands up perfectly as an album in its own right. You wouldn’t need to see the film necessarily to get something out of it. The recurring musical and vocal motif of the film rears its head early on in ‘Wait for the Rain’, a haunting, rather sinister lullaby with a barely whispered vocal by Hess. The phrase in the song, ‘And the road lead to nowhere’, recurs throughout the album.
The following track is in many ways at odds with the rather folky, acoustic nature of the other tracks. Indeed, a track with pots and pans percussion would be at odds with most things. So when ‘Baddie’s Theme’ turns into ‘Sadie and Krug’, replete with lyrics and kazoo, you know something’s afoot. Given my article many a moon ago about the rights and wrongs of whistling, that I can now accept kazoos as a legitimate instrument possibly suggests I have mellowed over the years. So, over something between a ragtime carnival hoedown and a kid’s TV show theme, we are sung the following
“Weasel and Junior, Sadie and Krug
Out for the day with the Collingwood brood
Out for the day for some fresh air and sun
Let’s have some fun with those two lovely children and off them as soon as we’re done.”
In fact, the juxtaposition of disturbing imagery and jaunty carefree music works perfectly, and also reflects a trick used in the film of having a shocking unrelenting main bridge with a comic mini subplot running under it. The other track worthy of note is ‘Now You’re All Alone’. It’s unlikely that anyone who has viewed the film and ignored the titles could possibly have guessed that the angel Gabriel of villains on screen was responsible for the piece, prompting Wes Craven to say,
“It’s a really beautiful haunting piece. I’m surprised nobody’s covered it because it’s really a classic blues song.”
In typical fashion, a murder takes place on the last note of the song.
Though a personal and professional triumph, Hess’s appearance in what was to become, in Britain at least, one of the most notorious video nasties led to him forever being typecast as a movie bad guy. To me, this seems a dreadful shame. Hess is a huge musical talent, and one seemingly destined to remain on the fringes of the business, and to be a killer pub quiz question, if you pardon the pun. There again, Hess has succeeded in two unique branches of the arts. I guess we’d be happy even having a go at either.
Following ‘Last House on the Left’ came a slew of low-budget film appearances, mostly living up to his now celebrated bad guy image. Of note are his appearances in ‘Hitchhike’ (1977) as a no-good hitchhiker causing mayhem, and in Ruggero Deodato‘s ‘House on the Edge of the Park’ (1980), a virtual rewrite of Last House, but with its own quirky charm, and excitingly featuring several scenes of Mr Hess disco dancing. Ah, the price of fame. Deodato was also less than impressed.
“He is a great actor, but as a man he is not very pleasant. He is a blackmailer. I asked him to appear in a film, which I shot recently, and we were due to shoot, and he told me that he wanted more money. I told him to get fucked.”
Coming from the man who was thrown before the Italian courts for allegedly filming genuine scenes of cannibalism, this is not the statement of the most reliable character witness in the world.
In 2001, Hess released the album ‘Caught in the Moment’ through the tiny New York label, Rocket City. Intended as a document of his life over the past 50-odd years, the album is actually something of a disappointment, relying too much on overly sentimental imagery and swooning 80s synths. Standout tracks ‘Vagabond’ and ‘High’ point towards what is still a huge musical talent, but that needs a harsher producer to steer him in the right direction.
The follow-up was quick in coming. ‘Live and Unplugged in Hollywood’ was released the following year on the same label. Though the sound levels are low even for a live release, his storytelling style is better suited to this wandering minstrel-like setting. Highlights are a nice rerun through ‘NY Times’, written around the time of ‘Last House’, and the finale of his first recorded reading of ‘All Shook Up’, which is revealing in that it is quite clear how the song was adapted by and to suit Elvis. Following is a fun version of ‘Speedy Gonzales’, which leaves you wondering, as ever, whether songwriting of this calibre from so long ago can ever be repeated.
Interview with David Hess, March 2003.
Daz. May seem a silly question, but why the change from Hess to Hill?
Hess. In the 1950s and early 60s, Hess was not a popular name in the United States. The memory of World War II was still fresh, and given that it’s a German name, my manager made the choice to change it for professional reasons.
Daz. What’s the story behind your early career? How did you break into the songwriting market at such a young age?
Hess. Perry Como and Maurice Levy (Roulette Records) were next-door neighbours to my family in Long Island. They heard me sing, they loved me, and they pointed me in the right direction without taking a dime from me.
Daz. What’s the deal with ‘All Shook Up’? Do you/did you receive royalties? How frustrating is it that this doesn’t bear your songwriting credit?
Hess. It was my idea, my first recording, buy-out, Beaucoup bucks at the time. Don’t worry, I’m still very pleased!
Daz. Was your relationship with Elvis remote? Did he simply cover your songs or were you writing for him in a more collaborative sense?
Hess. As remote as me being President Bush’s son-in-law, I never met the man.
Daz. Having such success with Elvis and so many others early on, and the subsequent success of ‘Speedy Gonzalez’, could you have comfortably retired even then, or have you got one of those typical screwed-by-the-music-industry stories?
Hess. There was an old expression: “If you want to get into the music industry, expect to be screwed, blued and tattooed”. In short, everyone has a story like that, but I came out on the plus side. As far as retiring, I’ve never worked. This isn’t work.
Daz. What was the reception like at the time of your first two solo records?
Hess. Critically acclaimed, the singles sold well, one was a top 10 single, and the LPs became collector’s items, lol! I probably could have boosted sales if I had agreed to go on tour, but I never much enjoyed long road trips. I preferred writing songs and singing in the studio or locally.
Daz. You shared an apartment at this time with Bobby Darin; is this correct?
Hess. Yes, previous to that was Steve McQueen, and when I was 16 years old, with James Dean.
Daz. By the late 60s, early 70s, your career still seemed to be on a high, working as head of A&R at Mercury, etc. Why then, from 72, and your appearance in ‘Last House’, did this side of your career seem to go quiet? Was this intentional, or was this not the case at all?
Hess. Would you hire a psychotic sociopath? After ‘Last House’ became a mega-hit, the perception of me from the people around me changed, and I had to move to Europe to get a job.
Daz. Performing at the 60s folk clubs in New York, did you cross paths with any other rising stars?
Hess. All of them: Dylan, Peter, Paul and Mary, Lieber and Stoller, The Kingston Trio, Boyce and Hart, Jimmy Bowen, James Gavin, Woody Guthrie, Will Geer, Carole King and Jerry Goffin, Neil Sedaka, Don Kirshner, Sal Mineo, Kenny Rankin, anybody that was in the Brill Building, and anybody that played the folk clubs, I knew them all. Too many to think of off the top of my head.
Daz. The soundtrack to ‘Last House’ features Tom and Steve Chapin. Were these Harry’s brothers or is this merely a coincidence?
Hess. Harry may have considered it a coincidence, but yes, they are his brothers!
Daz. Bringing us up to date, can you tell us a bit about your latest two releases and your plans for the future?
Hess. I definitely hope to do more singing in the future. ‘Caught Up’ was my first foray into recording in 20 years, and I had a blast making it. I’m in the process of writing songs for my next one.
David Hess died in 2011. Though no new music was ever released, there was a brilliant career retrospective, ‘Climbing Up the Sunshine Path (Rare, Lost & Unreleased Songs)’, released in 2006.
Daz Lawrence
About the Author
That was a fascinating read; thank you. I knew bits and pieces of this, but nothing like the whole story, or indeed the interview you reprint at the end, which I did not know existed until reading your post today. I did know about “Speedy Gonzales” and the Elvis details, but I don’t think I’d even heard of the Caught in the Moment album before. Nor did I know the little detail about his living next door to Perry Como!
Being open, I don’t like Hess as a person, because of his treatment of Sandra Peabody (Cassell) on Last House on the Left. The Szulkin book contains the milder end of that, while some of Hess’s own comments in his later years suggest outright abuse dressed up as method acting. He seems to have had a lifelong coldness towards Peabody beyond almost anybody else.
But that personal dislike doesn’t mean I think he was a terrible musician: he quite clearly was anything but. Even in Last House, I think the sequence with Mari walking down to the lake to the strains of “Now You’re All Alone” has considerable power, and this is one point where Peabody (acting) and Hess (music, secondarily acting) work together effectively. “Speedy Gonzales” although a much lighter song is also one I will admit to giving a spin now and again.
Comments that threaten to be longer than the post they’re about aren’t usually the best idea, so I’ll stop now! Thank you again for broadening my knowledge in an interesting and very readable way.
I tried to avoid talking about film as much as possible, because you’re right, I think it forces you to look his alleged behaviour,and at the very least puts you in the zone of the characters he tended to play, neither of which lets you look at the musical side of things objectively.
Looking back at it 20-odd years later, it does seems like he did pretty well for himself very early in his career, and it would’ve been interesting to see how he’d have worked if there’d been a bit more jeopardy there. Cheers for commenting!