Feeling a bit letdown today after having been outbid on Rocket from the Crypt’s coveted Rocket Pack… for the second time this year, so am clinging to the comforting grooves of Mr. Croce. This 1975 double LP collection from 1975 was nabbed for $4 in Vegas, and is littered with skips and major imperfections… much like my seemingly endless journey towards the Rocket Pack. Keep hunting if you can stomach the heartache, kids.
Walter (or Wendy) Carlos performing Moog interpretations from of The Beatles, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Burt Bacharach, and Johann Sebastian Bach? Hell yes! Sign me up! Released in 1975 on Columbia Masterworks (and this truly is a masterwork), By Request is a great little novelty album perfect for lazy Friday afternoons with little-to-nothing to do. Enjoy your records responsibly, kids, and happy Friday!
Mothership connection, getting girls’ affection
If your life needs correction, don’t follow my direction
(I was listening to the Beasties today, so I had to tie that in somehow…) Parliament, and their 1975 masterpiece, Mothership Connection need no introduction. The 4th album for the band featured the mighty George Clinton as Producer, Writer, and frontman vocalist, but again, this is all but painfully obvious for lovers of the Funk.
Make your Tuesday evening an untamed mass of street-talkin’, booty-rockin’ Supergroovalisticprosifunkstication (track 1, side 2).
I’m not sure why the local brick & mortars in and around the Los Angeles area haven’t stocked the 1975 Willie Nelson classic, Red Headed Stranger (you know, the one with Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain on it). There are currently 1080 owners of this album on Discogs, and there are 19 copies on sale starting at $0.99, yet I’ve still never seen one among my multiple hunts throughout the last 12 hunting months. “Just order it on Discogs, then, and stop wasting my time!” I just can’t justify paying more for shipping than the item being shipped, Mr. and / or Mrs. Mud Stick.
The search continues, for the elusive, Red Headed Stranger.
As the kickoff to your working week comes to lethargic, sluggish conclusion, allow the angel whispers of Richard “I Hope I’m Funny” Pryor lull you into a comedic coma. Richard Pryor released well over 20 albums in his famed stand-up career, and each of them is, without hesitation, absolutely perfect. 1975’s …Is it Something I Said? is certainly no exception.
Today, July 3rd (or yesterday, for those keeping track), is / was Jaws Day… the annual domestic celebration of all things Jaws related. Apart from the soundtrack looping throughout the restroom, the LP was prominently displayed for all to see, and a respective shot of tequila was downed for every death eloquently showcased from this monumental masterpiece.
This is, and will continue to be an annual tradition… July 3rd, will (eventually) be known as, the Day of Jaws!
Monday mornings are about as celebratory as striking a 10d x 3in nail through your foot, but that didn’t stop the newly formed supergroup (circa: 1975), Fleetwood Mac, from churning out a righteous soundtrack that pairs perfectly with a stiff cup of joe on this, the beginnings of another working week.
Written by Lindsey Buckingham, Monday Morning launches the 1975 self-titled album (the band’s second… self-titled that is), and features, for the first time, the inclusion of the now defunct, but once romantic pair, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks.
Wikipedia will have you know, that Martin Crosbie “was an Irish tenor” who is internationally known for the song, The Miller’s Daughter featured here, on his 1975 album, Yesterday When I Was Young. At the time of this record’s release, Mr. Crosbie had been performing at Clontarf Castle in Dublin “for the past ten years” (1965-1975 for those not keeping track). Many of the chosen tracks that appear on Yesterday When I Was Young were those most requested by levelheaded audience members attending his consistent executions on stage at the above-mentioned Irish castle. The man was a hoss… a performance whore with lines that wrapped around the corner, and down the halls (no evidence of this exists).
The back sleeve offers a little insight into Mr. Crosbie’s personal life: “The recent tracks on the album are Thelma (the first wife) on the organ, and myself only.” First wife? How many more were there? Could a once blooming, and romantically blossomed love really be diminished down to a three-word description such as “the first wife?” Apparently so. Passing away in 1982 at the age of 71, and with little-to-no information about this golden-throated legend available online, we are all left to the inconsistent suggestions of speculation.
As for the bulging wang… no comment.
On a recent excursion to the corner thrift shops, I was able to unearth a few awkward gems. Let me back-up a bit and say, wholeheartedly, that inflation is a bastard. I’m going to sound very old, very quickly here, so please bear with me. I can remember strolling into any random thrift shop and paying nothing over $0.99 for a used record. Today, tainted by the thick, grubby hands of the monetary virus known as inflation, these thrift shops, that receive all of these records for free, mind you, are selling records for $3 a pop! Granted, yes, $3 for a record is still a monumental steal, but I clearly would have picked up at least two, possibly three more albums had the price been “what it used to be.”
I believe it was George Costanza who said, “I pay what I want.” I’m strongly considering adopting that principle. It blows my feeble mind to think who would ever pay $3 for a scratched-to-hell Lawrence Welk album with a ripped cover. Ok, my teeny-tiny rant over with, I wanted to present the three, newest additions to my collection. First up is the 1975 Win, Lose or Draw by the Allman Brothers Band. My catalog of Allman Brothers music is small, so this will help the cause.
Second is a 1962 UK release of Mrs. Mills’ Mrs. Mills Plays the Roaring Twenties. In almost pristine shape, Mrs. Mills Plays the Roaring Twenties is a nostalgic (for someone, I suppose) keepsake for the burlesque-inspired and boa flinging dance parlors of a decade nearly a century old. Not to mention, the cover is priceless (even though it was had for three times the price I would have like to have paid).
Last, but certainly not least, is a magnificent 1975 album from an artist I’d never heard of, Martin Crosbie (with Thelma). Yesterday When I Was Young, released on the Irish Olympic Records label, showcases a stern, and slightly annoyed Martin Crosbie standing atop a few dry rocks directly in front of a roaring river. I can’t wait to listen to this album.
In short, inflation is an inevitable priss, and $3 for an album is still not bad (screams to himself), especially considering the unknown gem that potentially waits in the dimly lit, and dust-filled shelves of your local thrift store.
My apologies to fans of the masterful, and iconic Ian Anderson, but there has never been a bigger, fear-invoking, badass flautist than Hubert Laws. Have a quick look-see at the bevy of influential and groundbreaking artists Mr. Laws has performed with: Chet Baker, George Benson, Ron Carter, Johnny Hammond, Freddie Hubbard, Milt Jackson, Quincy Jones, Herbie Mann, Mongo Santamaria, Leon Spencer and Walter Wanderley… and that’s only naming about half of his collaborators.
The man was even featured on an early Groove post about the “junk induced, vodka-and-coke spilling, dank, eye-burning, smoke-filled classic for the casual 1980 Contemporary Jazz fan in all of us,” the illustrious Empire Jazz.
The Chicago Theme is upbeat groove-jazz with a Starsky & Hutch-style flair, and comes highly recommended. Released on Creed Taylor’s prominent CTI label back in 1975, this six track funktastic medley tackles such well known incarnations as You Make Me Feel Brand New (covered by everyone from Boyz II Men, to Rod Stewart to Babyface) and Midnight at the Oasis (I can’t help but picture Ron and Sheila Albertson performing an abridged version of this track whilst auditioning for Corky St. Clair’s Red, White and Blaine in the timeless, Waiting for Guffman).
One doesn’t think “badass” when they think of the flute… Hubert Laws is here to rectify that, and but quick!
Capitalizing on the early 70’s popularity of reinvented “Electronic” adaptations of Classical classics, Isao Tomita focuses on the 1874 suite by Russian composer, Modest Mussorgsky, titled, Pictures at an Exhibition. Isao Tamita creates a very dark and dreary wall of impending, electronic-doom-music… AND IT’S AWESOME!
70’s Electro was made famous in large part by Walter/Wendy Carlos’ invigorating take on the works of Ludwig van Beethoven in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange. Although the back sleeve accurately indicates that (up to that time) electronic instruments had only been around for nearly 50 years (with the ethereal launch of Leon Theremin’s well, Theremin in 1927), there were only a small handful of “Electronic” albums obtainable by the social conscious. Four that I can think of are 1) the groundbreaking Soundtrack to Forbidden Planet in 1956, 2) George Harrison’s first studio album (yes, THAT George Harrison), 1969’s Electronic Sound, 3) Walter Carlos’ 1968 debut, Switched-On Bach, and 4) the 1966 release of The In Sound from Way Out! by Perrey and Kingsley.
Creating electrified modernizations of decades-old classics must have been difficult for some to digest in the mid 1970’s… boy were those narrow-minded purists in for a treat when Disco hit just a few short years later.
The late 60’s/early 70’s electronic movement is definitely something to explore. To say it is little more than a Classical suite or symphony with an electronic filter would completely sell this infant-like genre depressingly short. The guitar, invented in the 13th Century, didn’t get electrified until the 1930’s. Electronic music has yet to hit its centennial mark… imagine its overwhelming future. Isao Tomita did, and it’s evident by his work on Pictures at an Exhibition.