What I once thought was Oingo Boingo’s first release, 1980’s Oingo Boingo, is actually their third, following 1976’s 7″ You Got Your Baby Back and 1978’s extremely limited 10″ titled Demo EP (only 130 copies released). Regardless of its apparent lack of exclusivity, this 10″ predates their epic 1981 studio debut, Only a Lad, and is the perfect soundtrack for a lazy, salsa-making day.
In all its unorganized, selfishly-inept misery, here is the overflow of miscellaneous tomfoolery, that which I have no Earthly idea what to do with, aka, the byproduct of one’s collection. 10″s, 78s, 7″s, 45s, slipmats, random inserts, vacant sleeves / covers… all of these random orphans make up the corner of the office, whose permanent location needs severe and well-planned consideration.
I’d always loved this label photo, which also doubles as the cover to Money Mark’s Third Version E.P. from 1996. Former carpenters turned keyboard astronauts always tend to nab my undivided attention, as well they should. If you’re in the mood this new year for some downtempo trip hop, the buck stops with Money Mark Nishita.
As an aside, while prepping for this post, I came across a 20th anniversary free download link on Mr. Mark’s official site, so head on over to http://moneymark.com/, drop your email, and enjoy his first album for free!
First on tomorrow’s platter is this 2x 10″ of silly songs by the Mercury Miniature Playhouse, Two Ton Baker. Non-breakable records as it says, we’ll see if this vibrant cover bleeds through to the silly-song grooves within. Redheaded kids on yule logs thumping on piano-playing backgrounds with nearby red-eyed rabbits sell a damn-good tale of voluptuous entertainment, such that it is. We’ll see if ol’ Two Ton packs a worthy punch on ol’ Wednesday morn.
This is a fun one. So, long, sappy, convoluted story short, work has been a bear lately, so this past Saturday I decided to have some selfish fun. After liquoring up my SO on heavy margaritas and Mexican food, I nonchalantly informed her that we were heading to the local brick and mortar and that she had one, very important task at hand… one she certainly did not ask for, and one she admirably knocked out of the vinyl-spinning park. She was to pick out one record, period. See, she doesn’t collect vinyl… she cooks… and is amazing at it. I, collect… and eat her delicious goods. So, amongst a sea of Radiohead, Johnny Cash, and Beatles-related material, she picked Frank Froeba’s Old Time Piano 10″. I love this woman, and impromptu pairings of Mexican and record hunting is, I’m sorry kiddo, now a thing.
It’s exceptionally difficult not to indulge in the carefree climate that Percy Faith and His Orchestra spews forth with unquestionable fluidity. The March of Siamese Children, The Hot Canary, Kitten on the Keys, Fiddle Derby, and Dizzy Fingers, to name only a few, make this Columbia Records 10” LP worthy of any layperson’s engaging Thursday evening.
Cracked grooves break my heart… especially Oscar nominated cuts from the 1940s. The 1940 film, Second Chorus, featured both this shellac track, Love of My Life, as well as a clarinet-yielding Artie Shaw, masterfully (I assume) portraying himself up on the big, flickering dream-screen. Never saw it, but with a score and on-screen performance provided by Mr. Shaw himself, this little entertainment blip just spun onto my radar.
Chalk this oversight up to adrenaline, heat, or simple fatigue, all of which were raging through my withered carcass at the initial moment of this record’s discovery. Unplayable, but never-the-less pretty to look at, I’m thumbing my creative button to figure out what the hell to do with this glaring example of deplorable sadness. She’ll rest, having had her last 78rpm go around until I can figure out a decent and respectable way to upcycle her.
Dead records are never easy to stomach.
My best guess is that this record was either offered to phonograph dealers when these new, Motorola 3 Amplifier Stereophonic High Fidelity phonographs were released, or it accompanied the unit upon its purchase. Either way, this was a 10-track compilation record containing handpicked material that best showcased these 3 amplifier units.
A quick Google search reveals a vintage advert from 1960, featuring two of these (extremely expensive) 3 amp units. The SK28 model goes for a whopping $329.95 ($2522.93 adjusted for inflation) where as the smaller model retailed for $299.95 ($2293.54 adjusted for inflation). Lucky for the folks of the late 50s, early 60s, this particular advert offers a payment plan, starting with $10 down ($76.46 adjusted for inflation). Something seems WAY out of whack here, but I don’t have time to give it any more thought.
I never owned the record that this sleeve swore to protect, but it’s nice to see Motorola’s logo hasn’t changed in the past 54 years.
10 inches of Hip-Hop infused, fits of 1994 aggression! That’s what they’re givin’ you, kid! So sip your juice, spin your licorice disc, and leave your poor mother alone! Also, if you ever decide to grow a mullet, you will be disowned!
Any album containing the rapid fire fury of Mullet Head is worth owning, and this UK 10″ is no different.