Tag Archives: Album Review

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The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society – An Album Review

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Remembering WalterTHIS IS NOT AN ALBUM REVIEW

Please be advised that this is not an album review of The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society. Being, arguably, my favorite album of all time (an argument I have, with myself, almost every other day), any review by me, or The Groove, would require something more than a 15-minute effort. (This is not to say this post only took me 15 minutes… I’ve been struggling lately.)

Gawl Darn It, Isn't It A Pretty SceneTHIS IS NOT AN ALBUM REVIEW

Mainly, I just wanted to show off this beautiful reissue from 2011. If you have ears, and they work, do them, and yourself, a favor and get The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society. Like Jack Black’s character from High Fidelity prominently states, “It’s gonna’ be okay.”

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The Wurst of P.D.Q. Bach

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P.D.Q. Bach CoverThere are days when I hate The Groove. This time sucking, sleep-depriving exercise that began, mainly to explore my record collection (and the limits of my patience), loves to sneak up on me. Just when I think I’ll have a quick post, and then merrily continue on with my day, something interesting pops up and I’m forced to explore it, or live out the rest of my days regretting the time I DIDN’T spend on something worthy of, well, my time. I blame this guilty conscience, and P.D.Q. Bach.

I was going to introduce a “new category” today. I was going to call it Cover Focus, where the subject of the post would, well, focus on an album’s cover (I could have managed another, more creative title, but it was 6:04 in the morning, so, lay off!). I had the cover to The Wurst of P.D.Q. Bach in mind when I imagined the lucrative future of Cover Focus (seeing it on billboards and on the sides of buses rolling from town to Groove happy town). Instead, my curiosity took hold and I began to research Professor Peter Schickele and the composer, P.D.Q. Bach.

Wurst BackWhat I found out was absolutely hilarious, and borderlines on genius. Peter Schickele (a graduate from Juilliard and former classmate of Philip Glass… a Glassmate if you will), creates an artificial, and comical, world within the often-humorless Classical Music genre. In this world, the Professor (of the fictitious University of Southern North Dakota at Hoople) “unearths” discarded, and often terrible, works by P.D.Q. Bach (the counterfeit child of Johann Sebastian Bach). On this album, a best of P.D.Q. Bach, or Wurst of, if you will (or if you won’t… the album is pressed… it’s done), is performed by the Professor and his magnificent Chamber Orchestra in front of a sizable audience that isn’t afraid to show their appreciation with bursts of laughter and arousing applause (man, do I LOVE the run on sentence).

I imagine it is exceptionally difficult to create good music, and I bet it’s exponentially difficult to create really good “bad” music. For that, and the several, and also genuine, laugh-out-louds I expressed from listening to this album, I humbly, and with a pinch of new-found admiration, thank Professor Peter Schickele for his duty in preserving the great many works of P.D.Q. Bach.

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Album Review: The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough by Cyndi Lauper

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Goonies CoverSide A

I hardly ever listen to my 45s. I find the entire process to be way too laborious, especially now that I’m well into my 2nd 20’s. (It goes 20’s, 2nd 20’s then 40’s, right?)

Anyway, I used to listen to 45s, so I’ve accumulated my fair share, but never really think to dig through them, because well, I’m lazy. So, in preparation for today’s post I was delighted to see what I’d completely forgotten I’d had. This was ALMOST a post about a kids read-along called, Pac-Man Run for Fun, but I didn’t have time to read the whole book for research. Yes, I know it’s a kid’s book and yes, I know I can follow along with the record, but I don’t have that kind of time! It’s Saturday, k’mon!

So with Pac-Man quietly sitting in the “future post” pile, I merrily give you, Cyndi Lauper’s The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough. Well, I’m not GIVING it to you, but I’ll briefly and half-assidly talk about it. (Half-assidly is a word, right?) Well, I’ll let my fingers talk about it. I doubt you’d be able to hear me wherever you may be right now. My fingers won’t ACTUALLY be talking… more like communicating… a stubby cry for help if you will. (What you must be thinking right now.)

I LOVE THIS COVER! It’s so stupid! I will say, however, Cyndi Lauper gives an amazingly convincing scared face… if you’re like, 3-years-old and like, have never actually been scared in your life. But it’s THE GOONIES, so I let it go.

The song is the smash-bang hit single from the film that appears around the time the kids bike to the lighthouse/restaurant, if I recall. They probably play it at the end credits as well, but I haven’t seen The Goonies in a while, so yeah, I could very well be incorrect in that statement.

Released in 1985, The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough perfectly packages all of one’s favorite memories from the film by offering that oh-so-recognizable 80’s drum-machine-laden production value that either you love, or you despise with all your soul and hope will die a slow and painful death. I don’t mind it.

On a side note, I don’t think the word “Goonies” is ever spoken in the entire song, which leads me to believe this song originally had absolutely NOTHING to do with the film.

Side B

I’ve never heard this song before. It certainly wasn’t in the film, but I understand Portrait Records (the now defunct sister company of Epic Records) needed a B-Side, so we get What a Thrill. It’s actually not that bad. It sounds NOTHING like what I’m now calling just, Good Enough. What a Thrill is a straight-forward mid-80’s hard rocker. I bet Ol’ Miss Lauper considered this Punk (I have no evidence of this claim).

An interesting accompaniment to Good Enough, I can actually see myself listening to What a Thrill like, in my car… driving to the grocery store for like, raisins.

These go for pretty damn cheap on discogs, so if you’re in the mood for The Goonies theme coupled with a decent hard-rocker, and you’re not too lazy to play 45s, this single comes recommended.

Goonies Back

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Single Review: Everybody Have Fun Tonight by Wang Chung

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Wang Chung FrontA-Side

I think people overlook Wang Chung, or at least they’ve forgotten about them amongst the economic woes of 2013. Everybody Have Fun Tonight is, among many other things a brilliant marketing technique that associates having fun with Wang Chung by, wait for it, rhyming “have fun” with “Wang Chung.” See what they did there? Clever bastards!

These guys aren’t domestically minded either… these British chaps are international: across the nation, around the world… Wang Chung wants EVERYBODY to have fun tonight. And the joy of this song as I see it, is that, ok, I’ll put on this 45, rock out with my New Wave British mates, and potentially WILL have fun tonight. Cut to tomorrow morning and the usual “what the hell happened?” After a shower and a shave, I’ll play this same 45 and BAM! Tomorrow night is another night to have fun! I tell you, Wang Chung were geniuses!

If “fun” ever had a theme song, Wang Chung nailed it. I know this is redundant but quite simply, all Wang Chung wants is for everybody to have fun tonight. A bit of a tall order? Sure, but hopefully optimistic? You bet your 1986 stonewashed-jean-wearing ass!

Why this isn’t the most popular song in the world I’ll never know. The next time you’re in the mood to “have fun,” remember who your sponsor is… it’s Wang Chung!

B-Side

The B-Side to this 80’s time capsule is a Everybody Have Fun Tonight remix of sorts; a couple swaying closer to a fun filled night. I imagine New Wave chicks with their New Wave heads resting on their New Wave boyfriend’s New Wave shoulders as they slowly oscillate amongst a sea of other New Wave couples in the wee hours of a New Wave morning in someone’s New Wave flat, all the while listening to Wang Chung’s musical nightcap, Side B’s Fun Tonight: The Early Years.

There is something to be said about New Wave. What that is I have no idea.

Wang Chung Back

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Album Review: Primus – Pork Soda (1993)

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CoverErnest Hemingway once stated, “Write drunk; edit sober.” Now, I’m not comparing myself to Ernest Hemingway (more like Ernest Borgnine), but I’ve adapted that approach to today’s post.

Side A

“My name is Mud.”

Albeit, a program featured on the channel of my past, Primus, like so many other influential bands, if only at the time, have created some of the most memorable melodies I can’t, but would love to, ignore.

“Where you goin’, city boy?!”

It’s difficult (as this is my first post) to comment on music that I’ve known for so long, or at least have held so close for a number of years. I’m not a Bruce Willis fan of Primus (Diehard for those catching up), but I am willing to lose myself amongst the rhythms that only partially remind me of my post High School years.

“Welcome to this worrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrld!”

I relish in the delights of disturbing my neighbors whilst listening to this album. Common decency be DAMNED!

“I had a friend that took a belt, took a belt and hung himself. Hung himself in the doorway of the apartment where he lived.”

Side B

I imagine those who differ from the manifesto that IS Primus to completely miss the proverbial point. Pop? Yes. Aggression? Perhaps. Alternative… when it meant something? Yes. Everyday listening? No, but for good reason.

I had a boss at a pizza joint in Madison, WI… He was my father’s age, but who LOVED his Dodge Intrepid, Western novels, and among other things, Primus. For those of you who disregard the band, who write them off as MTV slack-jawed-tobacco-chewing-yokels, you may be right. But for those who tote themselves as connoisseurs of music as a whole, I invite you to downgrade this band. The forum is open to you and your ignorance. Primus, aka Les Claypool w/ friends, and Pork Soda enter a room, set a fire, have a seat, then attempt to discuss foreign policies while the rest of the room frantically scrambles for an exit in fear of their lives.

A good friend made fun of me for posting this album on my wall (an actual wall, before the social digital walls we know and loathe) amongst 40+ other albums, commenting on how he felt it didn’t fit amongst the pool of those albums that he deemed much more socially acceptable and remotely respected. I’ll never forget that, and continue to wear this album on the wall of my youthful pride (said wall NSFW).

Side C

So, it’s raining here in Los Angeles. Thought I’d throw that out there. Salty ham carbonated beverage in my ears complement the sweet whisky tickling my tongue. Perhaps THIS is my personal Pork Soda; comfort musical pillows filling my ears accompanied by mental lubrication solemnly cascading down my throat.

I can’t remember the last time I shaved my face clean. Yesterday I did just that. Today, with 24 hours worth of stubble, I frantically, almost erotically, handle my beardless mug in almost sexual tension while I listen… to Pork Soda. There is a God and his name may be Leslie Edward Claypool.

“Say there Mr. Krinkle let’s cruise the Bastard boat.”

Arriving in 1993, Pork Soda exists as Primus’ third studio album (sandwiched between 1991’s Sailing the Seas of Cheese and 1995’s Tales from the Punchbowl).

The last track on this side is a giddy little ditty titled, The Air is Getting Slippery. Arguably the best on the album, this track features ol’ man Claypool on his OTHER mastered instrument, the banjo. This sounds like swamp music for bayou dwellers digging up dirt on a dank, humid shore in search for worms with which to fish. I can almost hear this song seeping from a tin can radio hanging from a tree as Jasper exclaims, “I dun finded another wurm! We g’wan eat t’night!”

“Forgive me if I hesitate…”

Side D

The last leg of this grandiose album winds down with a funk-ified instrumental that sounds a lot like a whale having his way with a sea otter. (Take a moment to visualize.) If you’re into whales, or just a lover of animals, Primus, Pork Soda, and Side D may be just what the veterinarian ordered.

Primus is not for everyone, but if you’re in the mood for a risky, meandering musical scene filled with carbonated pigs, this album comes HIGHLY recommended.

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The Cheese Stands Alone

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CheeseI feel as though I need to explain myself a bit. When coming up with topics here at The Prudent Groove, I need a touch of inspiration. Since I have over 2600 albums to choose from, the number of options gets to be daunting and ultimately discouraging. In other words, I need to be moved in order to write about something. So last night I’m at the grocery store, right? I see a sale on individually wrapped cheese sticks, 3 for $0.99. Decent price, ok, cool. Instantly, the hamster inside my head begins to churn, “Well, each stick is roughly $0.33 1/3 cents… Cheese… 33 1/3 RPMs… I SHOULD WRITE ABOUT LESS THAN JAKE’S CHEESE RECORD!” And with that thought, this post was born.

Leave it to Florida natives, Less Than Jake to dairy-ify an 80’s classic like Twisted Sister’s, We’re Not Gonna Take It. Limited to 1000 copies, this glorified 2 track 7” is aged to perfection and is now a ripe 15 years old (having been released in 1998). I purchased this copy at one of the many Less Than Jake performances I attended in Milwaukee. I think Kemuri was the opening band, but I don’t’ remember. What I DO remember is catching hell from my buddy, Neal for not picking up a LTJ Cheese record for him… I still feel bad about that to this day. (Religious guilt.)

The music is straightforward Ska-Punk-Pop that LTJ is known for. Rage, then break for horns… Rage, then break for horns… End. It sounded better when I was 19.

Side A: Cheese

Side B: We’re Not Gonna Take It

It’s interesting how certain bands spawn specific memories, be it however mundane or insignificant. For me, Twisted Sister has always been linked to the Hollywood Video in Milwaukee where I used to work. On one of my shifts, Mark Metcalf (The Maestro on Seinfeld) came in to rent a video and even though I had to look up his name, I distinctly recognized him as the pissed off, music hating father from the We’re Not Gonna Take It video.  I think that song, this record, and video renting in general will always be intertwined within the vast, vacant openness that is my brain. What does that have to do with Less Than Jake? Absolutely nothing, and I’m fine with that.

“We’re not gonna take it!” You’re not gonna’ take it?! Really? You’re not gonna’ take cheese?!!! Who wouldn’t take cheese? Are you lactose? This breaks a Wisconsin boy’s heart!

Insert

Notice the two types on the insert.

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Album Review: The English Beat – I Just Can’t Stop It

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Beat CoverWhy the works of The English Beat weren’t more prevalent during the Ska resurgence in the mid-to-late 90’s in rural Wisconsin is far beyond my feeble comprehension. With unknown bands like Skapone, The Skolars and The Parka Kings gaining constant play among me and my friends, the far superior talents of 6 early 80’s upbeat Ska professionals went ignorantly overlooked. Saxa, Andy Cox, David Steele, Everette Moreton, Ranking Roger and Dave Wakeling… I am forever sorry for the immature neglect I bestowed upon your great, but limited works.

This album starts off with an atom bomb (or a whisky shot to your ear’s liver) with the now famous (thanks to its picture perfect usage in 1997’s Grosse Pointe Blank) Mirror in the Bathroom. Catchy, upbeat Ska that makes any listener want to skank like an adolescent fool, this track, and much of this, their first album, digs a deep groove of head-bobbing, jive-swaying bowl-full-of-happy-time moments that don’t seem to get old some 33 years after their initial release.

Highlighted moments throughout this album will bounce around your head like a 22 caliber bullet. With the above mentioned Mirror in the Bathroom, Twist & Crawl and the side 1 ending, Click Click, I Just Can’t Stop It could easily work as the band’s greatest hits album save for the regrettably missing March of the Swivel Heads made famous for its use in the 1986 John Hughes classic, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Ska, as a whole, understandably, isn’t a genre for the masses. But I challenge any willing reader to embark on this creative milestone of positive grooves and NOT dig just about every Surf-Rock influenced, Rastafarian-vibe, bass-heavy, foot-tapping, good-ol’-fashioned-merry music found in this 1980 Sire Records release.

End of side 1

Beat BackMan, The English Beat make me wish I had a swimming pool to wade in and drink my pitcher of Mojitos. I’d settle for the kiddie pool in which we used to wash my Grandparent’s dog. There’s just something about this music that touches upon the “fun in the sun” pleasure spots. Do you know where your “fun in the sun” pleasure spots are? Go ahead. Touch them. You’ll thank me.

This album is pretty tightly produced, and is overall pretty slick. It’s evident these guys practiced a few times before recording this album, which, makes sense if you think about it. The only criticism I would offer is that the majority of the songs sound alike. That can be a good and a bad thing. If you’re into strawberry ice cream with hot fudge and gummy bear sprinkles, then you’ll likely want all the strawberry ice cream with hot fudge and gummy bear sprinkles you can get. This album, not unlike strawberry ice cream with hot fudge and gummy bear sprinkles is a specific palate, but oh, boy, what a palate it is!

On the back cover is a picture of a short skirt-wearing chick holding an album while standing next to a New Age looking turntable. The album in her hands? Why, I Just Can’t Stop It, of course. She’s got a smile on her face, which implies that the music from this album will cause you to smile as well! Some subtle marketing can go a long way.

So, ok, bottom line: GET THIS ALBUM!

End of side 2

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Track Review: Cookin’ With ALF

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ALF FrontRemember when coupons were records? Coupons… Those redeemable offers usually printed on paper. Remember when you could play your coupon on your turntable and jam out to a new song by your favorite prime time television puppet sponsored by your favorite fast food burger joint? (Dammit do I miss the 80’s!)

So, in my research for this post (research which I almost never do), I discover a hidden corner of the interwebs called, ALF Wiki. I know, right? A fuggin’ ALF Wiki page. (Dammit I’m happy to live in the present!) Anyhoo, the good folks over at ALF Wiki offer some insight into this obscure release. In 1988, Burger King (with their old logo) had a promotion for a plush ALF doll, complete with chef’s hat and “Cookin’ with ALF” apron. The paper record, or flexi-disc (sorry if I’m dumbing it down for you) accompanied the plush doll and offered $3 off on up to five eligible ALF plush toys manufactured and distributed by Coleco Industries, Inc. (from 6/1/88 to 1/31/89). Apparently the offer was only good for the 18” ALF toy (Coleco item No. 6601) and, here’s the rub: mixing and matching of other Alf products was NOT allowed. NO MIXING AND MATCHING, KIDS! DO IT RIGHT OR NO ALF COOKING FOR YOU!

I have to wonder how many people, after having just finished their delicious Whopper (with diabetic fries and diet Love Handles cola) ran to their local K-Mart (or Shopko) and bought five, 18” ALF dolls. That’s 7’ 6” of ALF, people! My guess is not too many, but I may be underestimating the popularity of the 18″ plush ALF market.

Cookin’ with ALF is described, in gory detail, by the informative, yet unplayable B-side. A balloon protruding from ALF’s mouth (nose, beak, whatever-the-fugg-it-is) reads, “What do you get when you combine a cooking show with rap music? Rap cooking! Ha! Dig it!” And since the “rap song” was offered by a “restaurant,“ the alien, technically isn’t wrong. So, with the term Rap cooking in mind, I invite you to indulge.

I’VE NEVER HEARD SO MUCH BASS FROM A PIECE OF PAPER!!

I’ll conclude this epic post (not taking myself seriously) with the flexi-disc playing instructions found under the grooves. Remember, kids, this is a piece of paper… that plays music… on your turntable. The digital world can collectively kiss my ass! (He said on a blog post on the internet, half ironically, half sarcastically.)

ALF BackInstructions:

1. Place phonograph on manual setting at 33 1/3 rpm.

2. Wipe record with clean cloth before each use.

3. Place coin near record center if record slips.

4. For best results bend record so it lies flat.

To remove coupon – bend at perforation and tear off gently.

Thanks to Jason Hardwick, of FILLintheBLANK fame, for this record.

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Album Review: The In Sound from Way Out! – Perrey-Kingsley

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CoverHaving to check, TWICE, that the beginning of this album was indeed on 33 1/3 (instead of on 45rpm, duh), I’m willingly forced to adjust my expectations so that they’re broad enough to ingest the enormity of this electronic Grand Canyon (other alternatives could be, the Pacific Ocean and/or Nic Cage’s forehead).

Labeled as Space Age Pop, Jean-Jacques Perrey and Gershon Kingsley cut and paste an album containing, what they imagined the music of their future (our past) had to offer. HOLY FUGG, DID THEY MISS THE MARK! But, as you continue to listen to this borderline children’s album (because it’s so unbelievably and unquestionably playful), the creative objective takes backseat to the subconscious joy that The In Sound offers to the willing cerebral cortex via the fordable musical river known as the human ear canal (canals if listening in stereo).

It would be soulfully wrong to do a write-up of this album and NOT comment on the Beastie Boys (RIP MCA).  Grand Royal’s 1994 release by the Beastie Boys, similarly titled, The In Sound from Way Out! offers no similarities with regard to the grooves, but whose cover and title were based off of this 1966 classic. It was actually the Beastie Boys’ cover that I initially saw, and I had no earthly idea that it was an homage until I saw my Perry-Kingley’s In Sound in a small record shop off Clark Street in Chicago. It sometimes takes one a bit of time to dig back through the pages of music history to find historic references to modern pop culture (well, as modern as 1994 at least).

End of side 1In Sound

Now, back to the album at hand (and in ear… sorry about that). It’s really a shame that no one has ever invented a form of dance that could accompany this kind of audio bliss. It would have to combine the Chicken with Square or Ballroom Dancing, but, you know, served with like 12 pots of coffee. Sure, there have been a few advancements in humanity over the past 46 years, but there has also been some MUCH needed social growth that has fallen way too short. The Way Out Dance tops that list.

I don’t mean to discredit the technical achievement that Perrey-Kingsley display on this album, and I furthermore don’t want you to see this as an unlistenable album. For the adventurous listener seeking something uplifting, cheerful, very dated and somewhat historical (if you’re a Beastie Boys fan), or someone just wanting to hear what 1966’s version of the “future” was, The In Sound from Way Out! definitely deserves at least one spin.

Having said that, I can’t imagine hearing any of these tracks reverberating off the walls at any of the clubs here in Los Angeles (not that I have any idea what kind of music is played at these clubs), or softly emitting from the stereo at your next casual dinner party.

What I’m saying is that you need to be in the mood to listen to this album. Some people, I imagine, never feel that mood strike. And that’s fine. Others are amazed when they discover a 28-year-old connection between their favorite band and an album they never knew existed, purchase said album, then are extremely disappointed when they giddily give it a spin. I fault high expectations. But I don’t fault the music. I’ve grown to appreciate it. Perhaps, you will too.

End of side 2

Back

Lovingly edited by Jillian Kenney. Reluctantly edited by Jason Hardwick.

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Album Write-up: Fever Tree’s 1968 Debut Album, Fever Tree

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CoverSide 1

Phantom of the Opera meets the Wild West in this opening track to Fever Tree’s debut album. Vocalist Dennis Keller kicks in with his chain-smoked-laden-raspy-gnarls-of-enthusiasm as the rest of this hipped out mob feverishly (see what I did there?) jams along in the background. (As with most of these write-ups, I’m listening to the album as I write.) This album is beginning to show signs of being really far out, brother! Fever Tree’s brand of late 60’s psychedelia peaked at only 156 on the Billboard 200 Chart. Not difficult to imagine as 1968 brought us The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society and what is now known as The White Album, to name only a few.

Although subsequent albums provided higher charting numbers, Fever Tree’s only single came from this album; (Track 3’s) San Francisco Girls (Return of the Native).  Sitting in my office smothered by the year 2013 and all that has preceded it, I imagine a parallel between listening to this album now, and a Texas band in 1968 singing about long legs in the San Francisco bay. “Those San Francisco girls with their San Francisco ways.” Ok. No one ever sang a song about the pretty girls in Camden, NJ; at least not in 1968, and certainly not on Universal City Records.

This album jams, man! Prime rhythms with snake-like guitar solos accompanied by a sprinkle of organ for good measure, all under a forceful bed of scratchy lyrics. For me, however, the album really picks up on Track 5’s, Man Who Paints the Pictures. Like a locomotive overtaken by banditos and raging down the rails through open fields of flower potted children and face painting stereotypes, Man Who Paints the Pictures finds its abrupt end with the start of Filigree & Shadow (which plays like a song that could accompany a Shakespearean play at a Tech College in rural Wisconsin). It’s a shame William Shatner couldn’t have covered this track on his groundbreaking, The Transformed Man LP. It would have fit in perfectly. Side 1 has its moments, and Man Who Paints the Pictures is its peak.

End of Side 1

I bet these guys got laid a lot.Dennis Keller Look at those chops!

Being thicker than a $5 malt, I had no idea that the Fever tree was the name of an actual tree. The acacia xanthophloea to be exact, and apparently photosynthesis takes place in the tree’s bark, which supposedly is pretty rare. So, there you go. No need to attend your Dendrology class today (courtesy of The Prudent Groove).

Side 2 offers more of the same “good time Charlie” music. Like a soothing blanket on a brisk fall evening, the Fever Tree provides uplifting lyrics and whimsical melodies on The Sun Also Rises. Although that statement may be painfully obvious, its simplicity, however overlooked, provides a sense of comfort and optimism for what each new day can bring. It’s all about the love, man. You dig?

The Fever Tree try their hand at some Lennon / McCartney material on Day Tripper / We Can Work It Out. Nothing groundbreaking here, but it’s always interesting to hear a familiar song through a new perspective.

The majority of the second side is much more subdued in comparison to the jam-heavy first side. And that’s fine, it just creates a distinctive separation between the two sides. Perhaps this is done by design. If you’re in the mood to jam, side A is your friend. If you’re in the mood to go all the way, side B may just put her in the mood.

BackOverall, Fever Tree’s debut album provides over 34 minutes that capture a specific state of (reality deluded) mind; a sense of what I can only imagine as being daydreamy-Utopia towards what the potential future could bring. Unfortunately for Fever Tree and the rest of the hip cats and chicks in 1968, that time would prove to be short lived. But thankfully, bands like Fever Tree, with their obscure releases, can take us to a time we will never know, and leave us longing for another trip back.

End of side 2.

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Album Review-ish: Calypso Holiday – The Norman Luboff Choir

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C CoverThis playful little selection sounds exactly like one would imagine by the parrot-laden cover and a title that is about as on-the-nose as could be humanly conceived. Throwaway titles for this album could have been: Riding the Coattails of the Rising Star, Harry Belafonte and His Successful Calypso Sound and This is Calypso Music, You Narrow-Minded Yankee.

Ok, I’ll admit, the only other Calypso music I’ve been exposed to was indeed Harry Belafonte, so this write-up isn’t going to be anything near groundbreaking (not that there would be any worry of that to begin with).  So, that having been stated, here goes:

This is an exceptionally fun album! The singers, both male and female HAD to be sore with grinning stretch marks from the making of this album. It’s good-time music. Plain and simple. Did your dog just knock over his water dish for the 17th time during the last commercial break of Gentle Ben? This album will help cheer you up. Did you just find out that your spouse has been secretly cheating on you with your younger sibling and that the raised papules on your skin sustained while swimming in that lake in early June may in fact be Swimmer’s Itch? Calypso Holiday will free you from this and seemingly ANY First World trouble.

So, Wikipedia tells me that, ahem, “Calypso is a style of Afro-Caribbean music that originated in Trinidad and Tobago from African and European roots.” Being neither African nor European, I proceed to Google “Trinidad and Tobago. “ Well, Oxnard California this is not! The women are beautiful (and wearing next to nothing), and that has GOT to be some of the bluest water I’ve ever seen (Probably Photoshopped). I’ve never had any sizable itch to travel south of San Diego, but a Port of Spain vacation has just made my bucket list.

Focus track for side 1: Dance de Limbo (Track 6). I challenge any of you to listen to this song and NOT nod your head to the simple pleasures of the religiously pure Calypso sound. Think back about that pool of water on your kitchen floor… You are now getting thoughts of raiding the closet for a broom with which to start a Limbo. Get to the back of the line, buddy, and fix me another Flying Masturbator. (It Exists)

End of side 1

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The first track on side 2, Sound de Fire Alarm begins an awful lot like Belafonte’s Jump in the Line (Shake Senora). I’m going to be thinking of this song while the “several-times-daily” fire trucks roll by my window to the rescue of some poor cat stranded up in a tree. Do cats still climb trees on LA’s west side?

Columbia Records put out this release in 1957, just 1 year after RCA’s release of Belafonte’s appropriately, and also on-the-nose album titled simply, Calypso. That album, having been only Belafonte’s 3rd, went on to sell over a million copies and spent 99 weeks on the U.S. Billboard charts. So, Columbia Records, being nether based in Columbia NOR, seemingly, having a creative bone in their corporate skeleton, decided to cash in on Mr. Belafonte’s raging success. As I’d mentioned, Belafonte is the only other Calypso artist I know, but I can promise that you’ll only read his name 1 more time during this write-up. Belafonte.

Allmusic.com doesn’t rate Calypso Holiday, or even provide an album cover. What type of flabbergasting tomfoolery is this! Somebody should write a letter. Here is their address:

AMG Headquarters

1168 Oak Valley Drive

Ann Arbor, MI 48108

Mr. Luboff unfortunately met his demise in September of 1987. I was eight then, and it would be close to fifteen years until I would even hear the poor man’s name. Well, he was talented, so I doubt he was poor, just poor in the sense that he’s now dead. For all I know he may have wanted to die, which would mean his death wasn’t poor at all. He had lung cancer which, I imagine doesn’t feel like a dip in the Caribbean Sea. Maybe his death was something of a sweet Calypso melody, softly kissing the ears of another eager listener. His NYT Obituary can be found here, if you’re into that kind of thing: Obit

Well, now I feel bad, having ended such an uplifting album on a morose disposition.  The inevitable Yin to the Calypso Yang, I guess.

Quickly, the back cover suggests “Records sound best on Columbia phonographs.” So, remember that the next time you’re shopping for your next hi-fi home stereo system. Or don’t. I won’t know.

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Empire Jazz – Produced and Arranged by Ron Carter

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empire-jazz-coverThe Galactic Empire, and all its personnel, get the dive-bar treatment in this junk induced, vodka-and-coke-spilling, dank, eye-burning, smoke-filled classic for the casual 1980 Contemporary Jazz fan in all of us. The very phrase “Contemporary Jazz” still freaks me out.

While listening to this record, I imagine myself sitting at Croce’s restaurant in San Diego, drinking a blue milk cocktail (a DOUBLE, why not?) while trying to make casual conversation with the person next to me, who is too busy scanning the room for someone more interesting to talk with. Very put together, and a bit too structured for my taste, Ron Carter and his (at that time) modern version of Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes use this album more as a vehicle to display their various talents (of which this album has many), rather than a stage in which to proclaim their love for Star Wars themed music. 90% straight-edge Contemporary Jazz and 10% Star Wars, Empire Jazz lacks the campy, not-taking-itself-too-seriously, classic lounge vibe that the Evil Genius Orchestra delivered in 1999’s Cocktails in the Cantina (AllMusic.com Review). It’s Contemporary Jazz all right, but this album misses the mark set by Meco in his 1977 classic, Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk; An album I misguidedly attributed Empire Jazz to mirror.

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empire-jazz-backRSO (Robert Stigwood Organisation) released this album in an attempt to appeal to the adult Star Wars fan, or so I gather. Empire Jazz, also known as RS-1-3085 is “also available in 8 track 8T-1-3085 and cassette CT-1-3085.” Too bad they couldn’t have worked TK-421 into their cataloging system, which would have been fun… a bit more fun than this album, I’m afraid.

The cover is, quite simply put, absolutely hilarious. It depicts Chewbacca doing his Thelonious Monk impersonation on the keys; C-3P0 working his well oiled, droid digits on the upright; R2-D2 using his electronic tentacles on the skins, which I buy, by the way; (I imagine R2 could rival Buddy Rich, if he’d ever lower himself to a challenge… R2, that is). And okay, I understand the idea of incorporating the “Empire” on the cover of an album called Empire Jazz, but on sax is a Stormtrooper… not too outlandish a notion, but I’d imagine it to be difficult playing a reed instrument WHILE WEARING A HELMET! And if that isn’t enough, the Sith Lord himself, Darth freakin’ Vader sits at an otherwise empty table with hands crossed, seemingly enthralled that a Wookiee had the patience to learn to play the piano.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Ronald Levin Carter has got talent. I mean, the man played with Miles Davis for crying out loud. It’s a finely executed album, just not exactly as kitschy as the cover suggests.

Current market value (as I type this) ranges from $2.94 in VG condition to $10.00 in NM condition (For Sale Here).

If you dig the Contemporary Jazz thing, consider this album. If you’re looking for Meco 2.0, you’re going to be disappointed.

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