Author Archives: The Prudent Groove

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(Selfish) Me Thursdays

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MehGoing forward, Thursdays, I’ve just decided, are going to be “me” days. In truth, this may be a fleeting subgenre that will fade away into Groove obscurity (anyone remember the Audio Odyssey? Of course you don’t). But wait! You ask… isn’t everyday “me” (you, not me) day? Au contraire, mon frère! Seldom do I pick that which I hold closest to my heart for obsessant fear of alienating any, and every other liable soul I come in contact with. Sure, I’ll fancy the now-and-again Wax Trax! Records post, but that’s mainly due to my laziness and lack of adequate time… or so I’m telling myself.

So today, the masses be damned! This is what I’d prefer to listen to (if politely asked), and I hope you get as much self-indulgent pleasure out of it as I do (or at least you can stomach the first 15 seconds of each hand picked slice of the Thursday pie):

Oxford Collapse – Keep ‘Em in a Canyon (2005 Kanine Records)

The Dismemberment Plan – Ok, Joke’s Over (1995 DeSoto Records)

Deftones – 7 Words (1995 Maverick records)

Andrew Jackson Jihad – People II: The Reckoning (2007 Asian Man Records)

Old 97’s – Drowning in the Days (1994 Big Iron Records)

Sean Na Na – Tumor Party (2000 Troubleman Unlimited)

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Setting Sun

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Setting SunTaking the day off today to read under the California sun (I’m enthralled with the 33 1/3 book series… almost finished with Piper at the Gates of Dawn, then will likely head to American Recordings… I’m a huge fan of Johnny Cash’s autobiography, Cash by Johnny Cash… thanks, High Fidelity), and to play a bit of catch (baseball) with the SO… I won’t fault her for being a Phillies fan… or maybe, yeah I will.

Bombastic big beat, baby! This 1996’s single by the Chem Bros from their 1997 full length, Dig Your Own Hole, Setting Sun features Noel Gallagher on vocals (don’t fault the band), and showcases heavy sirens and all the body movin’ dance floor glory that late 90s Chem Bros were known for. So, bump this fool to your iPod, or mobile stereo system, find a good tree, a better book, and enjoy the frills of a sunny afternoon… unless you live where it’s cold, in which case I pity your frozen soul!

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The Philodendron and the Damage Done

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Mrs. Brown's DaughterInspiration for any given daily post seems to either knock me out cold, or hide in pop obscurity like a poorly fleshed out b-side. Generally coming down to feast or famine, on the days when nothing is slapping me around with flashing lights and a raging chorus (or a cleverly constructed cover), I’ll clean the kitchen spatula (generally used for stir fry the night before), and scrape the inner lining of my skull for any hint of musical interest with which to spend the first few hours of my prolonged day. This morning I woke up with Herman’s Hermits rummaging through my unsettled mind (does anybody out there remember the 90s TV show Herman’s Head?). Wondering what Mrs. Brown’s daughter may look like today, an overwhelming wave of comfort and ease washed over me as I’d, quite early, figured out what today’s topic would be… then I began to overthink… like I do.

Mrs. BrownI thought, bollocks! I only have Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter on HH’s Greatest Hits album, and risking social (and personal) embarrassment for not owning the “proper” vehicle for this track (1965’s self titled release, or subsequently the 45 of the same name), I reluctantly decided to abandon the whole idea and start from scratch. That’s when the coffee kicked in.The Shame

As a daily routine before the “real job,” I fancy a gander at the ol’ Facebook to see which of my friends is the first to post about a recent celebrity death, or whose friendship is at risk of becoming null and void based on any given number of close-minded political rants (something that is both laughable, and painfully serene). So I was gratified to discover that a like-minded idiot (one of my best friends) shared a link to an A.V. Club article about one of my favorite high school bands: Propagandhi.

Politically charged (see the clouds of hypocrisy forming), pop-punk from Manitoba, Propagandhi opened my eyes to gay-positive, anti-meat ideals, with just the right amount of vulgar snarls and crass imagery a growing boy in the rural Midwest desperately needs. The article is a rather lengthy read, but if you were into the pop-punk scene in the late 90s, it’s essential reading material.

The Plant, and the Damage DoneOn a side note, in preparation for today’s post, I accidentally spilled the potted plant that sits above my record shelves, and was forced to rage through the house for the trusty Hoover. I can honestly say that I’ve never vacuumed my records before today. The irony? Propagandhi’s first album is appropriately titled, How to Clean Everything. I dig my irony, but not with a carpet full of mud.

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Twin Delights

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DelightsIt’s been noted… it’s been stated… so, much like how I won’t tackle The Beatles, I’ll leave the simple observations between these two album covers to those who have finished before me. I will say, however, that it took me much longer than I’d like to admit to track down Mr. Cooper’s delightful cover rendition of the classic Whipped Cream & Other Delights. If I were to wear a hat, I would remove it, nod in respectful applause, and say, “Well done Mr. Cooper. Well done indeed, sir.”

(The Prudent Groove: Anti-hat since last Thursday.)

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An Open Letter to Previous Ring of Fire – The Best of Johnny Cash Owner, Dick Suman

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JRDear Dick Suman,

This is a bit awkward considering we’ve never met, but I can’t help but feel an eternal connection with you through our shared love for Johnny Cash. Like you, I enjoy his baritone voice, his uncanny ability to create timeless soundscapes, and this, a convenient collection of his greatest hits circa: 1963.

I must say Mr. Suman, your overall care for this copy of Ring of Fire – The Best of Johnny Cash has rendered this record in rather adequate condition. The disc has a few scuffs, but doesn’t skip, and the sleeve is in better than average condition considering she was released 51 years ago. No, overall she was an exciting find at a Wisconsin thrift store some years back, and although I own many of these songs on their respective albums, it’s nice every once in a while to spin a collection of someone else’s favorites.

I do, however, have one quick question for you, Mr. Suman. Respectfully, I can’t help but ask, WHY THE HELL DID YOU WRITE YOUR EGG-SUCKIN’ NAME ON THE MOTHER-LOVIN’ COVER… IN PEN?!?!??!1!? Couldn’t you haves scribbled your deteriorating title on the back, or on the inside label? Why did you feel the need to piss your inscription square on the cover like a yippy dog to a low hanging pant leg? I question your judgment, good sir.

51 years ago, you made a poor decision, one that will forever live as a blatant symbol of your irresponsible and shortsighted character. I hope you feel an eternity of shame, that which you justly deserve.

Sincerely, your pal,

The Prudent Groove

Dick Suman

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Not Your Mother’s Hip-Hop

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DrBy every conceivable understanding of the phrase, Dr. Octagon is without question NOT your mother’s Hip-Hop. Defined by Google as:

hip-hop

noun

1. a style of popular music of US black and Hispanic origin, featuring rap with an electronic backing.

OctagonDr. Octagon is an X-rated barrel-shot through the grotesque-minded brilliance of the lyrical magician Kool Keith, backed with the autonomous production of the genre-bending (never breaking) Mr. Dan Nakamura (AKA Dan the Automator), mingled with the turntable chemist DJ Q-Bert (as well as a slew of genteel guest stars). In short, Dr. Octagon is the last doctor you’ll ever need, because he’s the last doctor you’ll ever see. Your mother would not approve of this disgusting display of Hip-Hop-ery.

What would qualify as “your mother’s Hip-Hop” you ask?

– Fat Boys

– PM Dawn

– Vanilla Ice (after a sixer of Zima)

The doctor is out… call back after midnight to make an appointment with the receptionist.

(Please note that this is not an album review. This has been explicitly stated so that I may repurpose this album for a future, much less lazy-minded post, you dig?)

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Greatest Science Fiction Hits II AKA The Not So Great of the Great

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GSFHIIIn the mood for great (not second rate) Science Fiction movie music favorites produced & arranged by Les Baxter & Neil Norman? Of course… it’s Friday, why wouldn’t you be? For those of you needing a little push in the ways of interstellar incentive, here’s what you’ll find on Greatest Science Fiction Hits II:

War of the Satellites (AKA Verizon Vs. AT&T)

Daughter of the Lesser Moon (AKA Girl from My First Wife)

Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (AKA 90s PG Stand-Up Comedy and the Feral Cat)

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (AKA Nope)

The Time Tunnel (AKA A Night of Heavy Drinking)

More from Star Wars (AKA Heavy Breathing from an Overweight, Yet Excessively Lucrative Franchise Creator)

And many more!

BACKShoot for the Galilean moons of Jupiter this early February (there’s an “R”) weekend, and hip yourself to the grandiose sounds of Neil Norman and His Cosmic Orchestra (produced & arranged by Les Baxter & Neil Norman) as they milk the last ounces of 70s groove-inspired, disco-influenced jazz-rock with this 1981 compilation of Science Fiction craziness from GNP Crescendo Records. If you find yourself poverty-stricken, but still long for the infinite sounds of the great unknown, this time-traveling collection will fit just about any budget-restricting needs.

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I Caught A Good One. It Looked Like it Could Run.

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MartyI’ve found, that in my 34 years experience on this revolving rock, that the best (read: only) way to experience Texas is through song. Personal politics aside (for now), Marty Robbins’ tenderly told ballad of haunting devastation, albeit now 55 years old, still manages to jerk a hidden tear or two from this sappy, heavyhearted lover of Western ballads.

Little more screams unquestionable masculinity than a gunfighter, dressed in black, poised and ready to maim a potential opponent, while he stands endlessly noble over a flamboyant (and there’s nothing wrong with that) sea of hot pink. Displayed on my vinyl-papered bedroom wall for years, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs successfully manages to steer that sturdy steed along the fine line between sensitivity and unchallenged storytelling. I know that for a lot of people, Western really isn’t their ideal choice for a hog-killin’ time, and believe me, I used to lasso that sentiment myself, but given the song’s history, coupled with the beautifully told ballad of lost love, I’ve concluded that, at least for me, El Paso is a legitimate cry from an otherwise worthless state.

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TKATVGPS

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TKATVGPSSimple, and to the point is today’s moderate theme. So, in case you were unaware, The Kinks would like God to save the following (have a nice day):

– Donald Duck

– Vaudeville

– Variety

– Strawberry jam, and all the different varieties

– Mrs. Mopp

– Good Old Mother Riley

– George Cross, and all those who were awarded them

– Little shops

– China cups

– Virginity

– Tudor houses

– Antique tables

– Billiards

– The Village Green

GSTKOh, and before I forget, The Kinks would also like it to be internationally understood that they will forever be known as the following aliases (again, hope you are having a nice day):

– The Village Green Preservation Society

– The Desperate Dan Appreciation Society

– The Draught Beer Preservation Society

– The Custard Pie Appreciation Consortium

– The Sherlock Holmes English Speaking Vernacular

– The Office Block Persecution Affinity

– The Skyscraper Condemnation Affiliate

What you do with this information is squarely up to you, just so long as you have a nice day. 🙂

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New Day, New Wave

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The BeatNew Wave has always been a savory and integral source of audio protein. As a child of the 80s, the synth-lead, bass-droning enormity of some of my New Wave Favs (Bangles’, Walk Like an Egyptian, Animotion’s Obsession, and Dead or Alive’s You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) to name only a few) still offer a wealth of fascinating childhood memories that seem not to go away with sequential spins; for this, I am ecstatically appreciative.

The Back BeatSo, leave it to ol’ K-Tel to put together a 1982 comp (featuring none of the above mentioned personal favs), with a cover that’s two-parts Take on Me, and one part opening credits to Saved By the Bell. Overall this comp is a fairly decent representation of New Wave up to 1982. Personally, Squeeze should at least have had Cool for Cats on here, if not their more excitable, Slap and Tickle, but they didn’t ask me to contribute to this compilation… no sir they did not. I’m not entirely sure what I could have offered at the ripe age of three, but personal preferences aside, The Beat by K-Tel is a welcoming trip down (I Want) Candy Cane Lane, even if the sum of its parts comes a bit short of the high water mark.

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RIP Frog

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RIP FrogSomber moods cloud the stagnant winter air at the PG office this brisk January evening. Cannibalism within the otherwise serene fresh water aquarium has taken the life of our amphibious friend, the Frog. So, please, take 3:05 and lament with me, Paul and Art over the violent, yet inevitable passing of our office pet. RIP Frog. Your pain is now over. May you enjoy your justly deserved, and bittersweet sounds of silence.

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Piles and Piles of Piles

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BarbershopAs a collector, I have several piles of records neatly sitting around my office (AKA the Den, the Lounge, FitB Studios, etc.). There’s a pile “to be digitized,” another “to be photographed and inserted into Discogs,” another, ever revolving pile of “newly acquired and yet to spin before it goes into the collection,” and finally, the dreaded “getting rid of” pile. Eventually, everything that stays ends up in the big pile on the wall, also known as my record library, but before any pressed disc finds its welcomed home, it must first 1) be spun at least once, 2) be catalogued into Discogs and 3) be considered for digitizing. I’m strongly considering adding a 4th phase tentatively titled, “cleaning.”

Barber BackSo today’s number, The Top Ten Barbershop Quartets of 1967 (At the 29th International Quartet Contest of S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A) had been neglected and left for dead amongst other soulless, breakable frisbees in the “getting rid of” pile. Now, I’m a nut for these obscure gems, but one thing I hate more than just about anything (aside from close-minded buffoons) is a record that skips. This detestable sliver in the side of paradisiacal beauty enrages me (much more so that it probably should), to the point where I never want to look at said disrupting maker of trouble for as long I live. Makes sense, considering additional copies of most albums can be acquired, but The Top Ten Barbershop Quartets of 1967 (At the 29th International Quartet Contest of S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A) had been catching my eye as of late, and I (reluctantly) decided to reintroduce it back into the folds, attempting to ignore it’s glaring, skip goiter. The reason, not because of its kickass-ery, but instead, The Top Ten Barbershop Quartets of 1967 (At the 29th International Quartet Contest of S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A) had been used on a short back in my film school days. As a self-inflicting maker of rules, anything that gets photographed or mentioned here on the Prudent Groove automatically stays. So, without further adieu, we welcome The Top Ten Barbershop Quartets of 1967 (At the 29th International Quartet Contest of S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A) back to the family. That short has long been lost and has since receded into Memory Lake, but this album, like few before, has officially switched piles.

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Which Digital Juke Do You Prefer?

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Screen shot 2014-02-01 at 11.16.48 AMIn 2014, it’s incessantly difficult not to dabble one’s feet in the digital music pool. Analog may forever be King, but digital is Queen Convenient. With x tracks spanning y days, the finicky, stubborn, snail-like jalopy that is iTunes may finally see its last days here at the PG offices. So, the question I pose to you is, what digital platform do you all prefer? I’m looking for something that can handle a large (and ever growing) library and so far, I’ve been exceptionally disappointed with my various trials. Thank you in advance for your contribution to this rather mundane issue.

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Sealed With A Kiss

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JWEBack when Grand Royal Records went under, its remaining assets were acquired (by means of online auction) and distributed via the short-lived GR2.com site (it’s still up, but the store closed its virtual doors a few years back). It was at GR2.com that I began ingesting a good third of the Grand Royal catalog at insanely cheap prices. Since I’m a never-happy-completist-nut, any and everything released by Grand Royal, roughly 90+ records, were placed into an Excel doc, created and printed out by me, with some now years old chicken scratch as a quickly obtainable Need It vs. Got It list. Maybe my OCD began in my younger days when I tried desperately to obtain all 792 cards in the 1990 Topps baseball card set, but really, who knows.

BackThat brings us to the Josephine Wiggs Experience. Released in 1996, Bon Bon Lifestyle was the only record of any speed released by the band, and as you can painfully see (or not), this copy is still sealed. If asked what I’m waiting for, I wouldn’t be able to offer a believable retort, the stupidity in which is magnified considering I don’t even know what this band sounds like. Someday I’ll unveil her virgin grooves, but until then, she stands alongside Janis and Journey, eager and patiently awaiting her debut spin.

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Space Whispers

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Space SoundsOriginally found on page 750A of the December 1969 issue of National Geographic, this Sounds of the Space Age from Sputnik to Lunar Landing was a recently acquired gem that was quite cheaply excavated (for a whopping $0.45) at a mega-thrift shop in the valley… you know the one, the giant-sized dumping ground of other people’s filth currently occupying the old Circuit City building? There it is. Of course you remember. How could you not? (I’m going absolutely nowhere with this, so I’ll stop the blood flow now.)

This nifty little flexi-disc features historical broadcast snippets surrounding the now light-years away, Space Race, and is narrated by Col. Frank Borman, USAF Astronaut. No fuddy-duddy shenanigans going on with this little marker of historical significance.

I could string together some extraterrestrial hoopla about why the record looks the way it does in the above picture, but the truth is, it’s been overcast all day here and I was forced to use my camera’s flash. That, and I rather dig the rings-of-Saturn-like groove highlights. Sometimes accidents yield unexpected results, and sometimes laziness eclipses the whole lot and one is forced to make do with what one’s got.

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Just Keep Your Eyes on the Hands

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Hulas vol2Thrift store hunting in The Valley yields some hip-swaying, luau-attending, hand-watching results. Who knew, am I right?! Recently acquired was this copy of Hukilau Hulas Vol. 2 (featured here, the back cover). “Keep your eyes on the hands” is more than a hula skirt-wearing, seductive suggestion for those looking for a quick lei (sigh), but instead, a graphic designer’s dream job featuring 16 (slightly) varied action-based hula illustrations.

But what about the music, you ask? Well, I have no Earthly idea! I just acquired this LP and haven’t had time to spin her grooves. A full report (from Interzone) shouldn’t be too far off.

HolyHulaSo, as you’ve (painfully) noticed, I’ve been rather lethargic and lazy as of late. It may have something to do with the thrill of 365 now being a skipping glimmer from the “less than” side A of the Groove, but all things considered… yeah, I owe you a decent post sooner rather than later.

“The Groove would be the end of me if it weren’t for the three free rounds of drinks at the end of every year.” Thanks, Mr. Hardwick.

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Uneasy Temperament

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Tomita PlanetsToo many factors play into this half-assed, quick-release, interception of a post focusing on Isro Tomita’s 1976 adaptation of Gustav Holst’s The Planets. So, I recently acquired a handy, compact, portable turntable (with external, bombastic speakers) from the loving wings of my thoughtful and supportive parents. The details and photo-proof of this most recent player (and my 6th, functional turntable… I live in a two bedroom apt, people!) will soon be chasing the setting sun (meaning, there is a post yet to follow), so my abbreviated attempts at “getting in and getting out” of yet another responsible-laden post will here again commence post-haste! So, I’m spinning this record on my portable player, see…

Saturn… and Tomita’s The Planets barely near scared the living sh!t out of me! I’m forever a lover of ambient, wall-of-soundscape, ethereal electro, and when the focus is something as deep-rooted as Holst’s The Planets, one assumes safety will eclipse the ever-impending danger… or so I would stupidly think. Mid-2nd-side, sh!t got real (and I paused my friendly, online game of Madden 2012 for the PS3), and stared at my newly acquired portable player in sheer, revolting, mannequin-induscing pain. My educated guess would point my accusing finger toward Saturn, track V… but no one can really say for absolute certainty why my otherwise controllable paranoia began to spike a red-lined fever, forcibly, and emotionally, removing me from my daily routine (if ever there was a track that conjured up the remorseful, uneasy, “put me out of my mystery” feeling of core-stirring horror, paralleling that of Gaspar Noé’s Irréversible, Tomita’s Saturn is without question, that track). One thing was for absolute, and unquestionable certain… Tomita is a salacious wizard, whose talents live far below the clouds of obscurity, and whose albums I’ll (very) soon be acquiring.

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Because A Plain White Sleeve is Just Plain Boring

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Spiral InsertPerhaps I offer too much attention to something as trivial as a record insert… perhaps I should just slap myself in the face for questioning this practical, record-saving, overly simplistic, introverted device (folded piece of paper) that offers a blank canvas for throwaway designs of yesteryear. Somebody designed this insert. Furthermore, someone paid someone to design it, and somebody probably rejected 24 previous versions before signing off on this teal, squared off lasso of reoccurring R’s (they kind of look like a series of interconnected R’s, right, or is that just me?).

Protect your records in style, and appreciate the nameless, faceless artisan who ingested a plain sleeve, and turned it into subtle, seldom seen art.

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Super Bizarre AKA Session Ride II

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Super SessionSince we haven’t done one of these in a while, in fact we’ve only done it one other time, Simply Samples is back with a Super Session of Bizarre proportions. Fan of hip hop? How about Pharcyde’s 1992 debut, Bizarre Ride II? Okay, then what about the 1968 super classic, Super Session by Bloomfield, Kooper and Stills? Notice any striking similarities between BKS’s cover of Donovan’s Season of the Witch and the Pharcyde’s Ya Mama? No?! Well, then have a listen.

Here is the opening to Season. Take particular notice to Al Kooper’s organic organ.

Now, here is that same bit sampled by the Pharcyde in their hilariously crass, Ya Mama. This is the instrumental version for clearer, albeit not near as funny, comparison.

Bizarre Ride IIAnd there you have it. A match made in music heaven spanning two completely different genres over the course of 24 years. Below are the full versions of both songs for your Sunday listening pleasure. If you don’t own either Super Session or Bizarre Ride II, I strongly urge you to seek them out immediately. Once you get that burnin’ yearnin’, there’s not turnin’ back, jack!

Season of the Witch by Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper and Steve Stills:

Ya Mama by The Pharcyde:

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Join the Teen Set

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Teen SetFinally haven woken from last night’s debaucherous slumber, I stumbled into consciousness to discover that the evening sun had already set, drowning itself in the salt-laden Pacific. Lucky for all involved (me and my morning bourbon), I’d previously saved a delectable Capitol Records insert some time ago, and my worried woes of missing the prominent opportunity to snap that perfect sun-kissed photo lay as insignificantly dormant as a piece of driftwood washing up upon the Santa Monica shoreline. AKA, I REALLY didn’t want to write today.

For just $1 (circa 196?) you can inform the “gentlemen” (sorry ladies of yesteryear, your day had apparently not yet come) that you’d generously prefer an introductory membership to the prestigious Teen Set, exclusively offered by Capitol Records. Yes, The Beatles are present and accounted for, and yes, The Lettermen are lingering there too, but the real steal is the “official Teen Set membership card.” Justified bragging rights for any and all who join, the Teen Set on Capitol seems like the logical, and most important post-pubescent decision any of us has ever been forced to make. Tickle your fancy with The Four Preps, The Goodtime Singers, or even The History of Drag Racing, and maybe, just maybe, your remaining teenage years will be void of awkward embarrassment… though, chances are, that inevitable boat of fictitious folly has already set sail.