The Big Bay Band (one that I’d not previously hear of) released a tribute album, of sorts, to the great Count Basie with their 1958 party pleaser, Rock-A-Bye Basie. Release on translucent red vinyl, as you can clearly see, this 10-track “covers” release includes works by George Gershwin, Benny Goodman, J. Mayo Williams, Lester Young, and the great Count Basie.
In you’re in the big band mood on a little band budget, Rock-A-Bye Basie is that swingin’ jazz medley you’ve been searching for.
The year, 1958… the legend, The Mick, aka Mickey Charles Mantle. RCA Victor compiled a list of jazz-pop, country, easy listening, and ballad-type hits which were “allegedly” personal favorites of The Commerce Comet on this listenable baseball card, My Favorite Hits – Mickey Mantle.
Whether these tracks by Glenn Miller, Hugo Winterhalter, Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington, and The Sons of the Pioneers were actually Mantle favorites is a topic of endless debate, but My Favorite Hits is a great, OLD, sports collectable with an amazing cover and a great soundtrack to a warm, summer, Tuesday evening. 
God love the low, low prices at Discogs.com.
The dynamic eccentricities of classical music are foreign to me. I don’t know near enough about the genre to speak with even a Kindergartener’s education (not knocking Kindergarteners… they are people too), but I know what I like, and I like The Planets.
Seven tracks representing all the known planets circa: 1916 (omitting Earth, for obvious reasons, and poor, poor Pluto), The Planets, by Gustav Holst, has been respected the universe over, for the past 98 years, while monumentally demanding a home in every serious collector’s nook.
Listening to Isao Tomita’s interpretation of said album while formulating this entry may have been less than a logical endeavor, but experimentation has its place.
I’m as much a fan of Nat King Cole as the next chap, but I can’t for the life of me figure out the fine print to the back alley pact Mr. King Cole made with some powerful and fame-granting deity that would result in such a uniformly, and unmistakably grand record album experience, that it would warrant the need for such a marvelous, and attention grabbing phrase as, Kaleidoscopic Wondersound.
Let’s break this phrase down, shall we? Kaleidoscope is a defined by Merriam-Webster (http://www.merriam-webster.com) as:
: a tube that has mirrors and loose pieces of colored glass
or plastic inside at one end so that you see many different
patterns when you turn the tube while looking in through
the other end
: a changing pattern or scene
Now, I’m not sure this 1958 release on Camay Records, officially titled Nat King Cole’s Golden Hits, resembles anything tube-like, is made of any colored glass, nor is it in any way, shape, or form a conduit with which to change patterns or scenes. What do you think? Does its use carry with it any sort of validity? Ok, moving on…
Again with the help of our friends at Merriam-Webster (we’re not really friends), the word wonder is defined as:
: something or someone that is very surprising, beautiful,
amazing, etc.
: something that is surprising or hard to believe
Mr. King Cole is certainly a sharp dressed gentleman, but I certainly wouldn’t use the word beautiful to describe him. He is, however, somewhat amazing, something that isn’t necessarily “very surprising” or for that matter “hard to believe.”
Last but certainly not least we change pace a bit, and head to Dictionary.com for a breakdown of arguably the most important word in the phrase, sound:
: the sensation produced by stimulation of the organs of
hearing by vibrations transmitted through the air or other
medium.
So, to accurately and definitively explain the rhythmic impact of Nat King Cole’s Golden Hits, one, by definition, could describe it, and it’s implementation of Kaleidoscopic Wondersound, in any or all of the following three ways:
1. Organ stimulating pattern tubes of a surprising nature
2. Beautifully transmitted vibrations through colored glass
3. Sensational and stimulating surprises that change and has mirrors
Sounds logical to me! We hope you enjoyed your weekend and we thank you for making it through today’s nonsense (fyi, don’t look for any hidden meaning to today’s post… it isn’t there)!
Yeah, I remember Buddy! That Birkenstock-wearing, Top 40 Radio-listening, part time tree-hugging philanthropist. It’s nearly impossible to forget him, given his gaudy, rhinestone eye patch he considers, “a necessary fashion accessory, regardless of my 20/20 vision.” Yeah, Buddy’s ideals are more based on the weekly grocery circulars than anything he learned in Philosophy V01 up at Ventura College.
I remember Buddy, and so does Jerry Vale. My memory of this tip-stealing, hot sauce drinking, re-gifter isn’t near as sentimental as they appear to be for Mr. Vale. Unlike Mr. Vale and his sugar-sweet, golden-throated praise in Buddy’s memory (why he would do such a malignant thing is far beyond the grasp of my comprehension), my memories of Buddy, the vagrant oil stains littering the driveway of my past, those memories need to take a permanent vacation and never get a striking urge to write home. I’ll never forget you Buddy, although I would do just about everything in my conceivable power if given the opportunity.
1958 was a riveting year for RCA Victor Records, and this (Moon juiced) insert proves that the late 50s were a swinging, boisterous time for the 2nd oldest recording company in the United States. This prolific insert promotes everything from Frank Sinatra & Tommy Dorsey, to Perry Como, to the twins… you know the twins, Jim and John Cunningham (apparently Teenagers Love the Twins… who knew?), to the King, Elvis Presley, to a personal favorite, Glenn Miller, and finally to a little album called, My Favorite Hits, which is simply described as, “Mickey Mantle picks his favorites.” This last little number just made my Discogs Wantlist.
It’s enthralling to write about (barely touch upon) 1958 while listening to 1987’s Love an Adventure by Pseudo Echo, but things need to be kept into perspective, am I right?
In conclusion, here’s a little Thursday, mid-morning (or Friday, early morning in Australia) mind-melting math for you to digest:
Love an Adventure: 1987 – (minus) My Favorite Hits: 1958 = 29 year gap
Present Day: 2013 – (minus) Love an Adventure: 1987 = 26 year gap
If you’re like me, and you remember the Funkytown residing Pseudo Echo, than you, my friend, are old… you’re welcome.
I’m a sucker for vintage space and/or rocket-themed cover art, and you can imagine (it’s okay, I give you permission) my excitement when the spaced-out, black hole of vintage music behind the interstellar cover art is actually magnetic and borderline whimsically enchanting.
I’m on the hunt for another copy of Destination Moon, as the bottom left corner has a bit of Moon juice spilled on it (as you can plainly see). This album was released in 1958, so I’m going with the (by no means made up) story that the Ames Brothers ACTUALLY traveled to the moon to record AND press this album, but in their hurried attempts to jettison back to Earth to disperse their space-rock discovery amongst the lemming-like Earth creatures, they accidentally spilled a large amount of Moon juice on a few boxes containing Destination Moon, packed and ready for worldwide distribution. Yeah, that’s it…
Late 50s Jazz Pop with a theme that’s… I’m sorry; I have to… out of this world. I don’t own anything else by the Ames Brothers, but my intergalactic curiosity for more, good-time, secretly wholesome, space-themed 50s music will undoubtedly point me to the direction of the orbiting cluster of space debris called, the Ames Brothers.
The Prudent Groove 