The road to 3000 has been a long and winding one, and the choice of the mighty 3000, being the featured white vinyl version of the Beatles 1968 self titled album, is nothing short of exaccurate (exactly accurate).
I’d been hunting this monster down for more than a few years. The hefty price tag ($100+ complete w/ all four headshots and poster) always deterred me from pulling the trigger. That is, until I found this beaut off ebay last week. Knowing the inevitable 3000 was rapidly approaching, my once torrid, vinyl-hording obsession turned into a frugal-minded halt, as I forwent the “casual” purchasing phase until the mighty 3000 came home. I certainly hope #4000 isn’t for quite some time, as space is really starting to become an issue… one that every collector knows all too well.
In the process of sheathing my collection with 3 mil polyethylene jimmy hats (started with A, currently at L), I’ve discovered a few hidden, sealed treasures I’d somehow forgotten about. I count five virgin records living between A and L, among them is this 1996 maxi 12” from Grand Royal’s Luscious Jackson.
Naked Eye, the band’s most commercially successful song, was the only offering from the band to enter the Billboard Hot 100, and the first to penetrate these ears. Word around the barrio is that LJ reunited and were collaborating on new music, a certain and promising upswing from this severely underrated band.
Whilst listening to Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, it’s beyond evident to conclude, that although magnificent and majestic in his own right, Tim Hardin’s Tim Hardin 3 is much more socially acceptable than 1980’s FFfRV. I acknowledge that, of course, Mr. Hardin’s live offering is just, if not more fruitful as DK’s studio performance.. and all-the-more vibrant, I’m just exhausted and unable to prolong the unimaginable fight.
Thank you, Television’s Greatest Hits, for lodging, without invitation, the Mr. Ed theme, firmly into my skull for the better part of an already stress-sweated day (And no one can talk to a horse of course, that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed). What seemed like a grandiose achievement at the time of purchase, 65 TV themes have proved, a $6.48 fine of unshakable, maniacally repetitious, headache (to put it lightly).
Mr. Ed, The Jetsons, The Dick Van Dyke Show, Gilligan’s Island… to name only a few (four of 65), do their wide-eyed part in depicting two records worth of yesteryear’s unforgettable little diddies.
Do I regret my purchase? Hell no! Do I wish I never spun these pristine, black, circular discs, abso-fuggin-lutely.
The law might get ‘em, then again the law might not get ‘em too! I must admit, that the motivation behind the inclusion of John Schneider and Tom Wopat’s pop-country work into the fold (Bo and Luke Duke respectively), is purely, and without shameful hesitation, based solely upon their prominent involvement with The Dukes of Hazzard.
That being said, it’s about hot damn time for the yearly Dukes of Hazzard marathon. (More of a reminder for me, than anything else… let’s be honest.) Pour yourself a hefty cup of bootlegged moonshine, weld the doors of your mound-jumping coupe, and pray to the heavens that Rosco Purvis Coltrane isn’t hot on your daisy dukes.
A lucrative single off Surrender, the full length I DON’T possess by premier big beat British brainiacs, The Chemical Brothers, Let Forever Be represents more the wispiness of summer than it does button-up the autumnal ambiance of fall. A worthy mind-dance nonetheless, Let Forever Be poses the unanswerable question, “How does it feel like?”
Oh, the Beatnuts… seminal late 90’s hip hop badassery that, without question, kicked the living shit out of everyone with this 1997’s single featuring Big Punisher & Cuban Link titled, Off the Books. When your non-hip hop enjoying SO storms into the room early in the morning, quite excitedly I may add, and asks, “What is this? I like it!,” you know you’re either spinning something John Reis related, or The Beatnuts.
Tuesday morning bombastic bass is perfect for everyone within earshot, and no beat bouncing, wall vibrating, domestic disturbance flirting tracks kills quite like Off the Books. Do yourself a favor and check it out.
How a “Best of” album can be fathomed (let alone released) after only two studio albums (out of nine) is far beyond my feeble comprehension, yet, such is the case with The Best of Tim Hardin. Comprised of a single disc cutdown of Tim Hardin 1 and Tim Hardin 2, this 11-track comp, although magnificent beyond all audible understanding, lies through its teeth with its brags and boasts that this is in fact the best that Tim Hardin had to offer. Does it contain his early, and most pop-centric hits? Sure. Does it contain If I Were A Carpenter and Reason to Believe? Of course. Is it a well-rounded sense of this man’s brilliant songwriting ability, well thought out, considering his lengthy body of work? Not a chance in hell. For my money (I own it twice, and bought it three times), it doesn’t get any better than This is Tim Hardin, a worthy and presentable alternative as an adequate “Best of.”
41 years ago today, a dark wave of grief eclipsed the mournful sun as across the airwaves read… Jim Croce is dead. So long the Leroy Browns and the Roller Derby Queens. So long the big executives and the car washers; the pool hustlers and the moonshine runners. All these majestic characters would be, forever, laid to rest, on the 20th of September, 1973.
Have monkey, will operate organ. Bent Fabric, the whimsical piano master, follows his animal friendly, attention stealing formula with his 1964 effort, Organ Grinder’s Swing. A must for any fan of the solemn cool, Mr. Fabric opens the door to soothing piano rolls, a relaxing atmosphere, and adorable, domestic animals. Still on the lookout for his more prominent 1964 release, The Drunken Penguin, I find comfort in these open window, cool breeze piano eruptions, which are perfect for late night rye consuming moments of sporadic clarity. Thank you, Mr. Fabric.
As a special note, happy beautiful birthday to my amazing, and domestic animal loving mother, without whom, there would be no Groove. Happy birthday, mom!
What you’ve got here is a South Korean insert from the 1987 album, Appetite for destruction, by LA’s Guns N’ Roses released by the Oasis Record Co., an overseas distributor for Geffen Records. This exclusive version features a 9-track song list instead of the usual 12. Omitted are Nightrain, Mr. Brownstone and My Michelle (for those interested). I guess, by way of GNR in South Korea, anything goes.
When one witnesses this 1992 seal of quality from the 1992 KMFDM album, Money, one knows one is witnessing one’s best possible selection one can possibly make. One need not continue looking once one discovers ol’ Moonface logo guy, here. One looks, one sees, and one gets that deep down warm and industrial fuzzy feeling one tends to get, when one knows, and respects, that Wax Trax! Records sound.
Just in the Knack of time, 1979’s debut by LA’s (Los Angeles) The Knack dropped their international hit-tastic album just 16 days before I was born (and some mere 32 miles away from the hospital in question). This is the time, which I like to refer to as “my Mother’s physical hell.” Sure, My Sharona is present and accounted for, but what’s disturbingly overlooked is the vast greatness of the remainder of this prolific album.
The Knack, 1979’s Weezer, is, by all means, the sound of “now.” Get the Knack! Got it? Good!
Milestone posts are always a let-me-down. Huge, flamboyant ambitions are conceived; yet, more times than not, reality yields less than satisfactory results. This, of course, takes nothing away from (rather adds to) the genius of Steve Martin (and his souvenir insert from the classic 1978 album, A Wild and Crazy Guy) and / or this gentleman’s comedic herring (or, whatever hell kind of fish this is). 600 posts, for each and every one of the Prudent Groove days (a day in which I’m awake and functional… which sometimes, as of late, happens to extend past the standard 24-hour mark… I make no apologies), which, by defaulted design, keeps me fresh and anxious by the ambitious, yet stressful necessity to “continue.” Rediscovery of one’s varied collection has proved much more pleasing than initially conceived, and I sincerely appreciate (and deeply question… WHY?!) the avid stoppers-by.
The Prudent Groove… not knowing what to say for the past 600 days. Humbly, I thank you.
In a neatly, candy-coated, nutshell, here, in Time Life’s own words, lives the bullet-pointed eccentricities from disc one of To the Moon:
The first message from man on the moon… The moon in legend and the science… The beginning of rocketry… Tsiolkovsky… Goddard… Oberth… Goddard’s first launch… The American Rocket Society… Dorn Berger’s experiments in Germany… World War II and the V-2s.
Side 2 (which, for apparent broadcast reasons, is NOT on the same LP…):
World War II ends… U.S. seizes remaining V-2s and the German Rocket team surrenders to the Americans… H-bombs for the U.S. and the U.S.S.R…. The war in Korea… U.S. space program lags… Sputniks stun the world… The humiliation of Vanguard I and the success of Explorer I.
If that doesn’t tickle your curiosity’s fancy, then I don’t know what will!
Also: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! MAY THE MOONS AND THE STARS FOREVER SHINE UPON YOUR LIGHTED MEMORY!
“The dramatic story of man’s boldest venture told in the voice of those whose achieved it.” No, this is not a six record set, documenting the Snuggie, instead, it’s a rather profound, in-depth excursion into the global happenings of this magnificent achievement, man’s first stroll on the moon.
Only one record in, and the wave of entertaining, yet historical, back-story is proving to be well worth the $10 purchase price. As a sucker for the history, as much as the content, To the Moon will ultimately prove to be a bygone treasure of interstellar proportions… and comes HIGHLY recommended.
As far as I know, this Buddy insert from 2000 (Grand Royal Records… surprise, surprise), is a faux sticker. The scissor, dotted line divider is a pretty good indicator of the three separated parts, but I’m pretty sure it’s printed on paper. The keyboard BS 2000 logo is beyond stellar, while the playful percussion jobber raises more questions than answers. Nevertheless, this insert is a classic snapshot of the goofy, anything goes ear candy ushered forth by Grand Royal Records circa: 2000.
Prudent Groove suggestion: Save this image out at high quality, and print on sticker paper. Instant stickers of the BS nature.
We’re all Foreigners to someone, we all wanna know what love is, and we want you to show us. We desire to feel what love is, and we know you can show us. 1984’s Agent Provocateur knew love, and it wasn’t afraid to showcase this obsession by means of a silver and bold-red sticker on its gleaming, cellophane face (celloface? probably not). Yes I own a Foreigner album (two in fact), and yes, I’m okay with this.