Nothing pleased me more as a kid than day-tripping through my uncle's 45s.
This behavior first exhibited itself when I was just a little girl and my mother followed faint strains of an innocent alto to discover me belting away Que Sera Sera in a bedroom closet that served up just the right acoustics for a quick Doris Day or my toss-up fave, Michael Row the Boat Ashore.
As I grew older, I tossed both overboard for Rock Around the Clock and Chantilly Lace, where this sweet thing choreographed a dance routine where big-eyed girl and a pony tail hanging down featured predominantly. Too Darn Hot, Maybelline and Tutti Fruiti wiggled in the walk as top contenders, but looking back at these classics, none a-wop-bop-a-loo-lop a-lop bam boo-ed it home for me like Little Echo.
I'm a little echo, echo, echo
Just a naughty echo, echo, echo
And I wander around, but I'm not to be found cause I'm only a sound.
Not to be found proves key as I can't find any proof this song every existed, if Little Echo was indeed the title.
Once in awhile, I'll get the bug and dash off a quick email to those who consider themselves archivists or search first lines of songs sites, only to come up a few notes shorter than when I began.
So, as a 2010 gift to myself, I'm putting Little Echo out there. Any help or information would be very much appreciated.
I remember a 45 with a white label, possibly pressed by Capitol Records. Could've been a B side of a hit single, possibly a one hit wonder or who knows, maybe the song was part of a soundtrack.
The singer was female, sort of Doris Dayish with a Inger Stevens flair (no relation to Violet Indiana,with her own Little Echo cut) who sings of life as an echo way high in the hills, the hills, the hills and the valley below, below, below (much echo interplay) warbling birds, crying to the milkmaids as on their way they go--a lidiyya, liddiya, liddya, a-liddya, liddiyo, liddiyo, liddiyo (actual yodels) and I love you so in musical adieu to wander around back to the chorus, she's naughty echo and not to be found, cause she's only a sound.
My uncle--who has since passed away--endeared me with his record collection and for years, I stacked the records on a ridiculously ancient portable hi-fi--with speakers that folded out in anticipation of an impromptu sock hop--and listened as if I would own the 45s forever. Sadly, these classics disappeared under suspicious circumstances when I was away at college and though my memory (and YouTube) take me back to those times, Little Echo remains just that...an echo of a favorite for a young girl with a penchant for Doris Day.
Que sera sera.
