Don’t take my word for it (no, please don’t. I’m still wrapping my head around this “astonishing new achievement in stereo recording.”) Ladies and gentlemen, taken straight from the inner sleeve of Enoch Light and the Light Brigade’s 1964 classic, Dimension – 3 – .
Remember when you first discovered stereo recording? Remember the excitement of finding that a single groove on a record could actually carry two separate channels of sound? Remember the revelation that the solid mass of sound which was what you were accustomed to in phonographic reproduction could actually have directional values? And that this sense of direction could also provide a sense of perspective and depth? What a tremendous change this made in the pleasures and excitement that could be provided by a phonograph! Suddenly you were in a completely different world of sound! Remember? You can experience that same sense of discovery again.
Dimension – 3 – is one of the most unusual records that has ever been made. On it you hear for the first time the perfection and an extra dimension in stereo reproduction that engineers have been striving for ever since stereophonic recording was introduced.
Dimension – 3 – the amazing new recording technique revealed on this disc, makes it possible to achieve triple presence in sound reproduction! This means that you actually hear sound coming from three sources – even though you are only using the customary two speakers!
(Truncated… for more on the mysterious and marvelous Dimension – 3 – sound, check your local record retailer, or visit us again at The Prudent Groove.)
This 1964 Kapp Records release of Satchmo’s Hello, Dolly! was more of a happenstance release, capitalizing on the Kapp Records success of Louis’ #1 hit single of the same name. Some sources say that Armstrong’s Hello, Dolly! knocked The Beatles’ Can’t Buy Me Love from the number one spot, but my sources may be inaccurate. 12 tracks of unmistakable Louis Armstrong trumpet bliss, Hello, Dolly! features Dixieland jazz renditions of Blueberry Hill, Jeepers Creepers, and A Kiss to Build a Dream On. Some days call for the subtle, honest brilliance of Louis Armstrong, and today is one of those days.
The latest thrift store excavation yielding nothing, let’s say, groundbreaking, but the PG was willing and eager to bring home this pristine 1964 Boots Randolph LP, The Yakin’ Sax Man, the, you know, quote, unquote jazz / easy listening LP. Have yet to listen to it (that sometimes happens), but the cover is aces!
This album is a little more than a little misleading, as everyone clearly knows that the best of Peter Sellers is the 1964 masterpiece, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. This 1960, 11-track record is decent for tickling your chuckle-button, and although Mr. Sellers is renound the world over for his acclaimed genius-like tendencies, it doesn’t get any better than Sellers’ (as United States President Merkin Muffley) call to the Soviet Premier Dmitri Kissoff. Check it out.
It’s without hesitation that one, diehard fan such as I am, need the mono, and faux-stereo versions of This is Tim Hardin digitized for convenient listenability. Sure, this picture was taken some weeks ago, yet, the day’s end sneaks-the-hell up on those busy-beat-lovers, none-the-merry-less.
Short retort tonight, as the warm, guilty rays from the Hardin Sun cast fervent necessity that borderlines an acute obsession upon me and mine during these last few (years) weeks. I’ve gone so far as to hunt down the “Electronically Re-Recorded to Simulate STEREO” version of This is Tim Hardin to accompany the original mono version, and I have, today, decided it was worth a few good, conscious hours to digitize both albums for digital enjoyment. I’ve yet to find the proper ear-apparatus to showcase the difference between the two, but as with any obsession, logic gets second billing.
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!
Established, spawned, and even birthed in 1964, Nonesuch acted as the cheaper, dollar-store-frequenting-younger-sister-label to Elektra, and fancied the phrase, “fine records at the same price as a trade paperback.” (Thank you wikipedia.org)
Based out of NYC, Nonesuch is now owned and operated under the gargantuan Warner Bros. umbrella, but is still vibrant enough to stand its ground, (without being completely absorbed). Coupled with a fancy-dancy logo (which has since been done away with), Nonesuch Records proves that integrity and quality ear candy doesn’t have to equal ridiculous, inflated-ego prices.
Here is a portrait of A Portrait of Patsy Cline. With heartbroken sass, the golden-throated goddess pillages through some of the lesser-known recordings in her short but remarkable catalogue on this, a compilation album by Decca Records from 1964. Released just a year after her unfortunate death, A Portrait of Patsy Cline is just one of many compiled arrangements released in part to celebrate the incredible, and enduring weight of Virginia Patterson Hensley’s (aka Patsy Cline) extensive work.
There are most certainly only two kinds of music… lovin’, and hurtin’… and nobody loved to hurt as much as the somber, lonely hearted Patsy Cline.
This morning at 3am, I had the strangest dream. A dream so profoundly abstract, that it made Kandinsky’s Transverse Line look like a paint by numbers kit. It was so vigorous in its execution, yet so childish in its conception. Fights broke out behind my sunless eyes, as I lay physically immobile, yet emotionally writhing with internal conflict.
“War” can mean many things to many people, but its subtext always reads “permanent and coercive regret.” (Raises coffee mug) Here’s hoping the soldiers fighting your personal “war” return home safely and unscathed.
Why the UK and the US didn’t get along is something I’ve never been able to comprehend. Oh sure, things may be all fine and good now (for now…), but back in the day (and before my time), it seems that ego took precedent over creative output. Case in point, this Reprise Records insert from (roughly) 1965.
Featured on this beautiful little rock artifact (rock-ifact?), are two albums, or rather fabrications released by The Kinks. First (left side near the bottom) is the US version of their 1964 debut called simply, The Kinks. The original track lineup, cover art and title have been ignored for the supposed candy-grabbing, fat-bellied, narrow-minded delights of US audiences. Here it is titled You Really Got Me. There, it’s appropriately titled The Kinks. Why the change? Yet another age-old question whose real answer has been mummified and lives buried within the damp and dusty crypt of music’s blotchy past. (Wikipedia offers their decent explanation of this butchering practice that can found here.)
Second, and along the same lines is 1965’s Kinks-Size (middle). Here, US meatheads grabbed material from the EP Kinksize Session, leftover tracks from their debut, and both sides to two of their singles, Tired of Waiting for You and All Day and All of the Night. This Frankenstein makes for a decent listen, because let’s be honest, there really isn’t a bad Kinks song (before 1973), but it’s disjointing and certainly NOT what the band had intended. Wankers, the lot of them!
So, what’s the point? I dunno. Why couldn’t we all just get along? That, or I just really dig old inserts. Carry on.
Not only is Atco an unincorporated gaggle of pleasant homesteaders in Camden County, New Jersey, it’s also a record label and subsidiary of Atlantic Records Corporation (ATlantic COrporation… see what they did there?). Founded in 1955, ATCO served as an outlet for acts that, for one reason or another, didn’t fit the Atlantic Records format (Atlantic Records needs to lighten up if you ask me).
One of ATCO’s early releases is the 1964 compilation titled, Ain’t She Sweet. I don’t own this record… but I wish I did. It features The Beatles (with Tony Sheridan, recorded in 1961), and fetches a hefty $600 on Discogs. Keep an eye out for this one in the $1 bins.
What I dig most about these old inserts, apart from the frequent reminder of how to care for my records, is the variety of new bands I otherwise wouldn’t have heard of. Now, I’ve heard of Bent Fabric (Bent Fabricius-Bjerre), but I didn’t realize that most of his covers featured animals. My favorite from this insert is undoubtedly, The Drunken Penguin. That, coupled with Alley Cat, The Happy Puppy, and Never Tease Tigers just became the top four records in my want list.
Thanks to the nice people of Atco, and ATCO for the groovy suggestions.
Yesterday was a good day in terms of record pecking. I was able to find the following four albums (two firsts and two comps) for relatively cheap (it’s not only about the find… it’s also about the deal, as you all well know).
First up is The Rolling Stones’ self-titled debut, The Rolling Stones. Now, there were two copies of this album over at Record Surplus, and both sleeves were in pretty good shape. The copy I left behind was priced at $35, but the version I brought home was only $5. Record Surplus is thoughtful enough to provide listening stations (available, albeit restrictive, in five minute intervals). The record looked a bit choppy, but after a test spin, it proved to be only visually perverted. Score one for The Groove!
Second is Tim Hardin’s first album, Tim Hardin 1. I’m absolutely loony over Tim Hardin’s brand of white boy blues (after discovering his 1967 released, 1963-1964 recorded album, This is Tim Hardin). If you don’t know Tim Hardin, you don’t know anguish. It’s as simple as that.
Third and fourth are two of the three part series of early 80s UK punk comps titled, Punk and Disorderly. I’d first heard of these comps via NOFX lyrics in the song, Punk Guy that go “He should’ve been on the cover of Punk and Disorderly.” With 16 tracks apiece, I eagerly look forward to angry meditations in UK punk.
So, there you have it. British Invasion, White Boy Blues, and early UK Punk. Not bad for a stroll down to the corner shop.
This dapper gent’s got something on his mind, and he’d like to tell you about it. Actually, he has 12 things on his mind, and, if you have the time, Mr. John Gary has a few songs… songs for you alone.
So Tenderly does this man whisper sweet nothings into your eager ears, So Tenderly does he weave tales of love, brown-eyed baby boys, and a Red Rosey Bush. It’s not enough that this dashing, fist-on-chin-resting, expensive watch wearing, googly-eyed slickster sits in a room of bright orange… it’s the jaw-dropping style with which he masterfully does it!
Look at those eyes… they’re cutting deep grooves of tenderness right into your pulsating heart… a heart that beats, in perfect time, to the lustful syllables lovingly, and tenderly, So Tenderly, beaming from John Gary’s mouth-hole… an angel’s mouth-hole… a mouth-hole for you, and you alone.