It all comes down to the song "Peanut Duck." Nobody knows exactly when it was recorded (though they do know where: at Virtue Sound in Philly), and nobody knows who the singer, Marsha Gee, really was. Her name was lifted from another singer by a British DJ. He found the unreleased acetate and put out the song as a bootleg in the 1980s. As for the producer or songwriter, forget it. And what was there to write, anyway? What song-factory hack couldn't come up with an opening couplet like "There's a brand new dance, yeah/ That's sweeping the nation, yeah"? Writing wasn't the point. The point was to grab some of the spotlight and the fast cash that the purveyors of the frug, the monkey, the jerk, the swim, and the mashed potato had enjoyed. The decision not to release "Peanut Duck" probably hadn't even been reached before all hands involved turned their attention back to the assembly line.
You've never listened to anything like Marsha Gee. No hard sell for this girl. She makes a few stabs at pushing out a raunchy soul growl, but mostly she's content to hang back, too cool or too bored, ending each line in a husk of breathy exhaustion that sounds like someone who's got a good buzz on and isn't about to disturb it. You want a rave-up? Go make it your damn self—that is, until the last 45 seconds of the song. Vamping to pad the number out to an acceptable length for a single, Marsha takes off, snorting and yelling and jabbering: "Quack, quack, quackgiggy, quackgiggy, brrrrrrrrr, quack, quack, giggy, giggy, gi-gi-gi-giggy-gooma, gi-gi-gi-gi-gi quackgiggy, quackgiggy, gi-gig-goom, gi-gig-goom, gi-gig-goom-goom" and all of a sudden we're in place where the rock 'n' roll faithful understand that more of the secrets and the mysteries of the universe are contained in nonsense syllables like "bop bop suki do wah dah" (from the Velvelettes' "He Was Really Sayin' Somethin' ") than in third-rate high-school poetry like "I Am a Rock" or "Both Sides Now." Whoever Marsha is or was, she fulfilled her earthly destiny on "Peanut Duck."