1967 Dean Martin is solid, reliable, and adequate cocktail-chaser music. Gin and tonic, rye and vermouth with a dash of bitters, or a tart vodka martini are all outstanding pregame options to Deano Martino’s You Can’t Love ’em All. Though originally recorded for the original Ocean’s 11 in 1960, Ain’t That A Kick in the Head made its first LP appearance on this record, or so I could gather by my research companions (Discogs.com and Wikipedia.org). Whether your drink of choice is a Harry Headbanger, black coffee, or simply lemon water, Dean Martin is at the ready with a thirst-quenching soundtrack for you. Bottoms up.
1995 called and they want their thing back. We’re so happy to finally own this amazing Love Jones album, their 2nd studio album (depending on who you ask). The Thing was, simply put, the thing back in the summer of 1995, and it continues to fill that cocktail lounge niche that never really seemed to go away… something I’m forever grateful for.
There are a dozen or so essential acts that invariably get handed down from parent to child throughout an 18 or so year upbringing. (It was 17 and some change years for me, although my folks would argue it’s been 34 going on 35 years… and they wouldn’t be completely inaccurate.) Certain essentials fit this bill: The Beatles, The Stones, Electric Light Orchestra, Led Zeppelin, The Boss, Ludwig Van, John Cougar’s Jack & Diane, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Gimme Three Steps, Steve Miller Band’s Jet Airliner (AKA Jed & Lina), and of course, George Thorogood & the Destroyers’ One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer.
Only once in my life have I approached a gleaming, beer-stained bar to order this unique combination of lubricating cocktails, and it just so happened to be in my hometown amongst like-Thorogood-loving friends, so the event did not go overlooked. Tis a time of esteemed celebration, for tomorrow, the Prudent Groove turns one. Do your head a favor, and spoil yourself with one bourbon, one scotch and one beer. The first round is on us.
Thanks to all the folks who instill the essentials into their kids. To those about to rock, the Groove salutes you!
Christmas is approaching faster than Grandma can down a double eggnog, so let’s not waste our precious head funnels on anything other than pristine audio bliss. The Fireside Carolers do a magnificent job of romanticizing some of the holiday’s best ear cocktails in that down-home, get the hell off my lawn kind of way. Decent enough for just about one spin on the ol’ turntable of love, Let’s All Sing our Christmas Favorites makes for fascinating background music, perfect for filling the empty walls when you and your loved ones are out making trouble with the neighborhood kids. What I’m saying is, although performed exceptionally well, these organ-supported band of carolers need to take a backseat when it comes to proper, more upbeat Christmas music. You catch my drift? No offense, Fireside Carolers. You’re good enough to knock Grandma out, although, much of the credit should be given to the bourbon. Cheers to the holidays, or as Grandma says, “Shiers totha hol-idssss.”
Fueled by a Moscow Mule at three in the morning (the first I’ve ever made for myself), I sit, alone, ripe with intensity at the notion of plugging away at today’s fiendish post. Unfortunately, I have no geological compass with which to guide my lamenting rants. My scorned conscious maligns itself at continuously writing about writing about music, instead of actually writing about music… the byproduct of never taking myself too seriously.
Why music? Furthermore, why the tedious and lethargic interactivity of a flippable media disc? And why does it provide so much relentless satisfaction? Are we slaves to our pleasures? Would we care to acknowledge the answer we know to be true? I’m not immune to the truth. I just choose to keep it at bay in the back of my mind next to my burgeoning narcissism, and that video of me singing Pour Some Sugar on Me as a nonsensical child.
Perhaps, personalized discovery is to blame… or to credit. A sea of emotions built, and then repeatedly cast upon the wall with each gratifying listen. Music is above all other things, the greatest distracter of deafening silence. Because, once the silence takes hold, you’re stuck with the worst conversation you can possibly imagine… the conversation with yourself.
I listen to music in order to mute my internal monologue. My unconscious self, much like my conscious self, is a raging idiot, and I’ll do just about anything in my power to shut it the hell up… I don’t see harm in fanning this enduring process, do you?
You don’t need to be German to enjoy music arranged, performed and recorded solely for the purpose of drinking beer. It’s Friday. Why not relax with a cold one? Fill your stein, put up your feet, and surround yourself with the friendly swells of The Zillertal Band and their jolly-good-time-music. This album was however recorded live at the world famous Zillertal in Hamburg, Germany, for crying out loud! (Do people still use that phrase?)
You can rest assured that the quality of this album will exceed your High Fidelity-hipster needs. After all, the back cover explains, in striking detail, just how great the audio quality is:
Editing and transfer from tape to lacquer has been under supervision of the top audio engineers in the industry. All metal parts used in the pressing of the finished product are solid nickel to guarantee the finest surfaces and distortion free reproduction.