A Tune Musings Special: The Music of “I Think You Should Leave” With Tim Robinson
Tune Musings is a regular series where a lifelong audiophile shares, dissects, and reviews lesser-known, beautiful music.
Tim Robinson and Zach Kanin’s “I Think You Should Leave” sketch comedy series, now in its third season on Netflix, continues to reign as one of pop culture’s cringiest and most surreal offerings on American television.
ITYSL nominally centers around the concept of people being placed in excruciatingly cringy social situations that often border on the impossibly preposterous. The show excels at turning the awkward exponent into overdrive, trapping its suffering characters (and the audience) into uncomfortable, imprisoning interactions.
It’s a bizarre, difficult comedy that is full of frictional tones. One of the more noticeable paradoxes of ITYSL is its music. I am not referring to the handful of music-based skits in the show (which are all brilliant). Its unofficial soundtrack features a half dozen sunny, sparkling 60s soul masterpieces that rub up strangely against the unbearable, sometimes dark resonance of the show’s comedic scenes.
In one moment, you are watching a masked prankster in a mall food court contemplate the futility of existence, and the next, you’re hearing an upbeat Curtis Mayfield-adjacent funk jam over a color-drunk psychedelic screen wash.
That kind of tonal juxtaposition helps amplify ITYSL’s weirdness factor.
One could devote a full article on the merits of the songs created within the show (I’m looking at YOU, Denim Boys)…however the intent of this piece is to unearth the obscure soul nuggets featured as bumpers on the “I Think You Should Leave.”
So pause your Tasty Time vid, put on your Dan Flashes shirt, and fire up those sloppy steaks as we go on a Driving Crooner tour of the ITYSL soundtrack.
“Big Flame (Is Gonna Break My Heart in Two)” — Doris Wilson (1969)
Doris Wilson’s “Big Flame (Is Gonna Break My Heart in Two)” is, by default of its prominent placement within the show, the unofficial theme song for ITYSL. With its Motown-friendly beat, broad-shouldered organs, and authoritative vocals, “Big Flame” exudes late 60s pop polish plastered with a sheen of soul velour. Produced by William Shephard and arranged by seasoned rhythm and blues songwriter Rex Garvin, the single was released on New York City’s Authentic Records in 1969.
The repetitious ‘I-I-I-I” by backup vocalists the Rexettes recall prime early 60s girl groups, and Wilson lends a touch of Martha Reeves-esque muscularity in her singing. While not much of a chart success, the little-known “Big Flame” has been gifted renewed exposure thanks to ITSYL. The track was reissued in 2018 on 1960’s Soul: New York to Shreveport, courtesy of Fervor Records.
“Baby Bay” — John Lewis (1967)
Another instantly recognizable ITYSL classic, John Lewis’ “Baby Bay,” can be heard as a between-skit bumper in almost every episode. As with some of the other tracks in this article, history has not been kind to John Lewis’ song — there is an unfortunate lack of background info on the single.
What is known is that “Baby Bay” was also produced by William Shephard and released sometime in the 60s by NYC-based WSJ Sound Records. Very little is known about Lewis. Thanks to ITSYL, “Baby Bay” has been provided a second chance at a wider audience. Like “Big Flame,” Lewis and crew bait the listener with a catchy repetitive chorus and an instantly likable pop-soul blueprint. “Baby Bay” could have easily been a chart-topper had its distribution been wider.
“Keep On Tryin’” — Harry Krapsho (1970)
The hard shuffling, guitar-laced “Keep on Tryin’” is a personal ITYSL favorite. While not as prevalent as Lewis or Wilson’s singles, this quick-tempo-ed soul rocker by obscure artist Harry Krapsho can heard between skits in season three. Led by a killer piano melody and blood-pumping percussion, “Keep On Tryin’” swings harder than any other track featured in the show. Krapsho implores his would-be lover with promises of love-filled effort in a husky pitch landing somewhere between Isaac Hayes and Barry White.
As with most of these forgotten tunes, very little information about Krapsho or his career can be found online. His entire catalog was remastered and reissued by Fervor Records on the retrospective Got That Feeling in 2016. “Keep on Tryin’” is arguably Krapho’s finest moment on wax, but it’s got enough funky fuel to stand up on repeated listens.
“Standing On The Corner Everyday” — Michael Liggins and the Supersouls (1969)
According to his artist profile on Marmoset Music’s website, Michael Liggins and The Supersouls were based in Phoenix, Arizona, and “took the sounds of late 60s soul and fused them with the adventurous sounds of 60s psych rock.” From the very first chords of the shimmering guitar “Standing On The Corner Everyday,” one can hear a curious concoction of disparate elements at play in the track. There is an effervescent charm all over the song’s vocals— from the Temptations like group participation in the chorus to the ebullient “woo ooo oohs” that bring Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain-era Pavement to mind.
“Standing On The Corner Everday” has all the ingredients for a timeless funk/soul greatest hit. Alas, the song was relegated to the dustbin of musical history. It was only recently reissued by Fervor Records in its superb compilation Cult Hits of 1960s Soul! in 2013 and thankfully exposed to a bigger audience due to its recent inclusion in ITYSL.
“Blending Soul” — The Soul Blenders (1969)
Like Michael Liggins and The SuperSouls, The Soul Blenders were another little-known 60s soul band from Arizona whose best material was later reissued by Fervor Records in the past ten years.
The Soul Blenders featured brothers Gary, Junior, and Ronnie Whitehead, and their collective sound whirls with the loose but upbeat, horn-heavy funk prevalent with Liggins and The SuperSouls.
“Bending Soul” is notable for the between-verse guitar interludes, carousing in a see-saw scale and buffeted by beefy horns and an infectious chorus of “hey hey hey”s. It’s a fun little number that brightens the moment in the show when the audience is allowed a few seconds to assuage their cringed laughter.
