Tag Archives: Los Angeles

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This is for the People of the Sun

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RAM JFJamie Fisk looking album covers aside (and yes, that’s a deceased spider preserved on the “R” in EMPIRE), RATM’s Evil Empire was 1) released, on vinyl, but more importantly, and without my knowledge (imagine that) 2) with a badass slipmat…

Upon the looking’s up of my vinyl copy of 1999’s The Battle of Los Angeles (complete with fist-raising slipmat), I was reluctant to discover that 1996’s Evil Empire also featured a limited edition slipmat… message to self: gas up the DeLorean and get your ass to 1996’s Madison, WI State St. Exclusive Co. and obtain this Evil Empire slipmat by any, preferably violent, means necessary!

RAM SlipStill a worthy listen, Rage documents a very dark and exciting era of my adolescent life. Hey Lancer & the Mij, remember seeing Rage w/ the Beasties at Alpine Valley performing at the Tibetan Freedom Concert back in ’98?! Yeah… we’re old.

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Glass-Tastic

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Glass InsertI’ve never in my life meditated, but I imagine the soothing monotony of Einstein on the Beach parallels that of a meditative state. There is something strikingly beautiful about the repetitious meandering (in the most respectful sense) that both peaks my instinctive interest as well as calms my over-analytical, self-loathing senses. It’s mind-blowing to think that this music was performed live, and in front of an audience. What lies deep within the caverns of the genius mind, am I right?! Philip Glass, you sir, are on the same pedestal as Einstein, as far as I’m concerned, and these contemporary (circa: 1979) pieces of Classical compositions rank among some of the best ear candy I’ve ever ingested. Fueled by coffee and the soft glow of Glass in my ear, I gently lay my head atop the pillow of these blissful sound waves and smirk as I imagine how much my neighbors hate me at this very moment. I’m not joking when I say beauty was redefined upon this epic album’s release. I only wish I was able to see it performed live.

TomatoHow fitting is it that my introduction to Einstein on the Beach took place while driving along the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu? I don’t remember the frequency and I don’t remember the DJ, but I’ll never forget my scenic drive up Highway 1 early, one autumn morning upon returning from LAX to drop off a friend. I felt bold and flipped on the radio (something I VERY rarely did and something I refuse to do now) and stumbled across, quite by accident, the iridescent joy of Act 1, Scene 1: Train. It was one of those moments that one never forgets. Not unlike setting eyes on your significant other, or witnessing the Eiffel Tower in person, I felt an immediate connection and was literally overjoyed by hearing a style of music I never knew existed. It’s not often new discoveries of this magnitude emerge themselves well into one’s twenties. Needless to say, it’s quite obvious that for me, Einstein on the Beach struck a chord whose ring will never die out.

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Cold Life

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Cold Life LabelIt’s the first rather cold day here in LA (if that isn’t the oxymoron to end all oxymorons), and it feels amazing. So, what may seem as a bit of a stretch for some (I’ll ask those to remain silent), today’s choice for the daily platter-player is the appropriate Cold Life EP by early-Ministry. I specify early-Ministry because the contents of the first seven or so years of the bands output sounds NOTHING like the music we’ve all grown to love and admire.

Cold Live CoverThose expecting the obsessive rage and severe crunch of Ministry circa: 1988-1996 (and beyond for that matter) will be extremely shocked (and instantly irate) upon first listen, and will demand a throw down claiming this new wave, funk noise is not Ministry at all. Well, my fellow tender meatheads, you’d lose that battle. Like a spitting, swinging light in the damp and musty basement of industrial music history, signs of classic Ministry illuminate in stabby bursts throughout these four, groove-happy tracks. They may be suffocated by early 80s synth-pop, but believe me… they’re there.

A must for the diehard Ministry fan, or the casual fan of the progressive lineage of industrial music as a whole, Cold Life, upon further spins, is not near as bad as it first seems, and after the cloud of fury subsides, it’s actually an extremely enjoyable listen.Wax Trax! Records Logo (1985)

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The Presidents Speak

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WashingtonWhat’s better than an Extended Play 33 1/3 rpm Hi-Fidelity Record on George Washington? An Extended Play 33 1/3 rpm Hi-Fidelity Record on George Washington narrated by Art Baker, that’s what! And what’s more, a Collector’s Edition Presidential Commemorative Medallion… specially minted coin replica of one of America’s legendary leaders! It’s raining awe over here at The Prudent Groove, and I’ll be damned if I’m going for my umbrella.

Attention Collectors:

You will want the handsome plaque, specially designed to display the entire collection of Presidential Commemorative Medallions. Ask your dealer!

Don’t tell me what I want, 1966 Kaysons International LTD.! I am fully capably of deciding for myself. I don’t need you telling me, okay? Okay.

(Man, I could really use a nice, specially designed plaque with which to display my Commemorative Presidential Medallions… damn you, 1966 Kaysons International LTD.!)

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Groovy Grubworm, Groovy, Groovy Grubworm

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Groovy GrubwormI’ve got to admit, albeit amidst a cloud of guilt and shame, that I’ve been in a classic country mood since returning from my recent holiday in the rural Midwest. Yesterday I forced my girlfriend to join me in walking down the dusty road of Roger Miller and his hillbilly classic, Do-Wack A-Do, and lately I haven’t been able to stop Jeannie C. Riley’s Harper Valley P.T.A. from spinning inside my head. So with that frame of reference in mind, I offer Groovy Grubworm and Other Golden Guitar Greats by none other than Harlow Wilcox & The Oakies.

Now, this is the kind of “country music” I can get behind. No lyrics about hound dogs slurpin’ on Sally’s slippers, or Fakey-Flakey Hearts, just 12 tracks of electric guitar with just the right amount of twang and driving backbeat. Don’t even get me started on what the masses consider “country” music by today’s standards. In my cocky ignorance, I’ll proudly refuse to listen to any so called “country” released this side of 1986 (I stop with Dwight Yoakam’s Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc.). This is, to be blatently honest, the only reason I can justify listening to country music in the first place. Ok, rant over.

Grubworm BackYou’d think by the stoned out, tree-hugging grubworm on the cover that this album is far out, man. Instead, Harlow Wilcox & The Oakies are strikingly conservative in re-imagining such classics as The Surfaris’ Wipe Out, Johnny Smith’s Walk, Don’t Run, as well as dropping in four original compositions of their own that match seamlessly with the rest of these compelling classics.

Groovy Grubworm feeds that bug, er…worm, for classic, guitar-driven country music. I suspect that it’ll only be a matter of days until my mood shifts and I’ll want nothing to do with country music for the unforeseeable future, but until then, I’ll grab me a beer, and my lady, and we’ll create our own little rustic oasis amongst this sea of 3.8 million Los Angelenos. My sincere apologies to my neighbors in advance.

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Sometimes

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Fellini FrontSometimes you visit family and friends in the wooded, open-air state in which you grew up. Sometimes you cry from laughing so hard, you wear stocking hats in the early afternoon, you run the same route you did in High School Cross-Country, and sometimes you eat a whole, 1/3 box of Honey Maid graham crackers in one sitting.

Sometimes you throw away tiny mementos of your childhood to make room for tiny mementos of your adulthood, you discover a workman’s jacket your grandfather used to wear, you weave and dodge deer crossing rural roads at night, you attempt to snap pictures of the house cat chasing a chipmunk from the kitchen to the dining room and back, while your parents scurry from room to room attempting to get the poor zoo creature out of the house, you enjoy a severe thunderstorm, you visit your grandmother’s new apartment, you adjust to the idea of your grandmother living in an apartment, you drink countless, hearty cocktails, and eat at all your favorite restaurants that Los Angeles reluctantly ignores.

Sometimes you visit Half Price Books and find the soundtrack to Fellini’s 8 ½ for $2.99, you get your picture taken with your favorite MLB mascot, you delightfully peruse your parents’ record collection, you laugh ad nauseam with friends you haven’t seen in nearly 8 years, you play with cats, and you create new memories with which to bring up and enjoy in the future.

Sometimes you play Atari and drink Wisconsin’s finest beer with your girlfriend while laughing hysterically, you enjoy a bucket of balls at the driving range with your father, you play games at the kitchen table and your mother adorably invents a number of priceless one-liners, you build a bonfire, you visit the lake in which you learned to swim, and you wonder why you don’t visit more often.

Sometimes… it’s good to go home.

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Hey, Rich!!!

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Little RichardCertain quintessential artists, I’m ashamed to admit, go overlooked from time to time. And sometimes, that “time to time” duration, which started out as an innocent week or two, grows into a decade of selfish neglect.

I’d seen and heard of Little Richard in the wee days of my youth, and his story was one of the first that drew sympathy and frustration (as far as sympathy for the record industry goes), even at an early age. He was famous, but not as famous as he should have been, if you catch what I’m throwing down.

Little Richard!!! is both an essential compilation of this master’s incredible work, as well as an album in my parents’ record collection. When I get back to Los Angeles, Little Richard will FINALLY get my enthusiastic and undivided attention.

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When the Block’s A’Rockin’ Don’t Come A’Knockin’

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BeatsBlock Rockin’ Beats was the first Chem Bros track I’d ever heard. Stupidly mistaking it for Hip Hop, I was properly schooled, then introduced to the slam-happy genre that is Big Beat.

Chances are, you’ve heard this Grammy winning song on TV, in a film, or blasting from the alley around the corner from where you get those delicious French pastries. If you haven’t enjoyed this, which I’m convinced is the Chemical Brothers’ most popular track, you should take it for a spin around the ol’ block.

Editor’s note: I’ll be out of the office on holiday for a bit and will, obviously, be away from my music library. I haven’t decided exactly what I’ll post about, but come hell or higher gasoline prices, I’ll post something after every sunup. I’m sincerely looking forward to getting the hell out of Los Angeles for a little while.

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You Can’t Have Your Cake and Spin it Too AKA KPOL Radio (1952-1981)

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RIP KPOLBroadcasting self proclaimed, “Beautiful Music,” KPOL, “Los Angeles’ first easy-listening music station,” unleashed 21 alluring tracks, which were all “superbly performed by 101 Strings” in celebration for their 20th anniversary-birthday-ceremony-festival-type thing.

I don’t know what’s worse, that this is considered “Beautiful Music,” or that someone actually bought this deluxe 2 record set. (Looks into mirror and notices his unabated shame.) It certainly isn’t “Grotesque Music,” or even “Homely Music” for that matter, it’s just that when I think of the word “beautiful,” 101 strings does not come to mind. (I’m instantly reminded of a certain Twilight Zone episode with the applicable title, The Eye of the Beholder.)

CakeOn a serious note, it’s a bit sad to see the excitement and enthusiasm displayed by this proud and noble radio station, given the chilling fact that they would forever close their doors just nine short years after this celebratory album was released.

“Have a helping of memories,” kids, because our days are numbered…

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Columbia Records Reminds You to Take Care of Your Needle…

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Take Care of Your Needle_smallerDo you own an animal? Perhaps a yippy dog that draws anger and vengeful hatred from your neighbors when it constantly yips all day and every night? Or maybe you own a furniture scratching cat, or a cannibal fish, or maybe even a pot-bellied pig whom you call “Breakfast.” If you’ve ever owned an animal, you know the inherent responsibility that tags along. Your hi-fi stereophonic home entertainment system is no different. Sure, it may not need blood worms twice a week, or it may not require you to scoop up its feces with a thin-layered bag from Ralph’s, and it may not even wake you up at 4am by sitting on your face, but your phonograph’s needle gives you years of listening pleasure, and like a money-sucking (but unquestionably worth it) house pet, it needs your care.

What I learned from this ad-sert (an advert crossed with an insert):

1) An osmium needles lasts only 15 hours. For those of you who enjoy the tedious trip to your overpriced phonograph dealer (and if you’re in LA you’d be required to brave the bumper-to-bumper to get there), then this is the needle for you. Nothing compliments a majestic, and borderline romantic dinner-date at home quiet like the phrase, “I’m sorry dear, I’ve got to head to George Meyer TV & Stereo for another osmium needle. Please put the meatloaf in the microwave, and when I get back we can finish this Burl Ives album.” 15 hours?! Are you kidding me? Why even bother making them? Why not have turntables that only last 24hrs? I struggle to see the logic.

2) Only a first-class needle can give first-class reproduction. Second, third, and even fourth-class needles don’t only cause breakage and ear-slapping skips on your favorite Hollies album, but they’ve also been known to short out the wall socket, fry your nice shag carpet, and even burn down your lovely (this is subjective, of course), and fashionably outdated bachelor pad. A wise man doesn’t fly Coach when it comes to purchasing a needle. Don’t be an unwise man.

3) Avoid damage to your records. You mean I SHOULDN’T use my Marlene Dietrich albums as serving ware at my poorly catered, and forcibly causal dinner parties? Gosh, maybe I should stop carving my initials into the grooves so as to mark my territory when I take my records to those rye and record parties. Perhaps I’ve been ignorant to the whole “take care of your records” thing.

Columbia Records is never one to miss the overbearing opportunity to point out the painfully obvious when it comes to basic, record-related audio care. Tomorrow, we’re going to focus on yet another elementary approach to securing the longevity of your music library, and once again, it comes courtesy of Columbia Records. Happy Monday, kids!

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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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For Students of Speech and Interpretation

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Speech CoverI woke up at 4:11 this morning with a death-like worry. I was afraid I’d neglected to return the Speech in Action record to the Aggeler High library. So, half-dazed and fully panicked, I threw on the lights and checked the “educational section” of my library. Through tears and a palpitating heart, I discovered that yes; it was due, but thankfully, not until 3pm today.

Speech in Action is exactly what it sounds like: Examples of people speaking with different inflections pertaining to their different points of motivation. John Callaway, the narrator, gives a brief description to each of the 10 types of speech and interpretation, after which an example of each is performed by some of topnotch vocal chords 1965 has ever heard (Roy Neal and Charlton Heston to name a few).

Speech BackFor many of us, casual conversation at the office (usually about Nutella or the social need for foot deodorant) is something that comes naturally, and rarely requires much preparation. This is “speech to inform.” I would have had no Earthly idea that my early morning rants on what constitutes a “good” cup of coffee were actually mundane, yet surprisingly engaging “speeches to inform” had it not been for these beacons of educational, and applicable grooves. I never thought I’d say this, but thank you, Mr. Heston.

CardIf you’re stuck giving a speech at your next VFW luncheon, or you foresee an upcoming monologue directed towards your girlfriend’s father in the last-ditch attempts to persuade him that his daughter need not stay in that night, try Speech in Action. You’ll gain confidence, stature, and Godlike wisdom. Check it out. That is, if I actually remember to return it.

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SLIMNASTICS

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SlimSummer is swiftly approaching, and you know what that means. It’s time to abandon that pint of Chunky Monkey and drop those lingering “depression pounds” so you can become the best, superficial, objectified, shallow beach snob in all of Los Angeles County!

You’re probably asking yourself, “But how will I lose this row of bicycle tires in time to accept my crown as Big Kahuna of Venice Beach?” SLIMNASTICS is how. SLIMNASTICS is an ancient exercise technique of foolish looking, and ineffective body positions that you can struggle to achieve in the comfort of your own living room (with the lights off and all the shades drawn).

ManSLIMASTICS is designed by Dr. Charles A. Bucher, a guy famous for doing stuff (his resume is on the back sleeve in case you question his academic prodigiousness). With one side of the record devoted for men, and the other for women, Dr. Bucher engulfs your home stereo system and coaches you, step-by-step, on how to touch your toes and lift your arms. He’s offered a series of Picturegrams (I’m pretty sure ol’ Charlie made this word up) that oversimplify the insanely complex technique known as the push-up (among others).

WomanDig through your box of “To Goodwill” clothes and adorn those embarrassingly tight running shorts because Dr. Charles A. Bucher and his award-winning exercise program, SLIMNASTICS, are going to fool you into believing you can achieve social acceptance with a slim, new, beach-friendly body.

(The Prudent Groove is not responsible if you do not achieve social acceptance with your slim, new, beach-friendly body.)

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Happy Mothers (of Invention) Day!

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Absolutely Free CoverHappy mothers choose Jif. They also listen to The Mothers of Invention, and you should too. Here’s why:

1. Frank Zappa.

2. The Mothers of Invention were originally called The Soul Giants, but changed their name to The Mothers (on Mother’s Day 1965?), before settling on their full title for their debut album, 1966’s Freak Out!

3. Like your mother, Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention promote the consumption of vegetables. From Call Any Vegetable, The Mothers explain, “This is a song about vegetables. They keep you regular. They’re real good for ya.” Don’t become irregular. Eat your veggies!

4. Staunch fans of pets, and reptiles in general, the 1970 reinvention of the Mothers included three former members of The Turtles, Mark Volman, Howard Kaylan and Jim Pons.

5. Frank Zappa.

Absolutely Free Back6. Also similar to your mother, these Mothers promote the healthy balance of a nutritional diet, aquatic exercise, and proper education. In the epic Brown Shoes Don’t Make It, we hear, “TV dinner by the pool. I’m so glad I finished school.” Listen to your mothers. They know what’s best for you.

7. The band’s Producer, Tom Wilson, made a name for himself by his acclaimed work with Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, The Animals and The Velvet Underground.

8. Frank Zappa.

The Prudent Groove would like to wish a very happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there (regardless of your personal prune preference)!

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Beware the Vegas Sun

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Red CoverThis may be a no-brainer for the majority of you fine lovers of high fidelity, but unfortunately, I had to learn this bitter reality the hard way.  Let this be a lesson to those of you to whom this has yet to happen.

A few years ago, wow! It’s been five years now. Crazy. Moving on… a few years ago, I was visiting my parents in Las Vegas. You see, my father is the President of a Steel Workers Union in Wisconsin, and every once-and-a-while he needs to travel to Vegas for meetings. My mom joined him, and since Vegas is only a 4-½ hour car ride from Los Angeles, I met up with them for the weekend. Plus, at the time, one of my closest High School friends lived in Vegas, so it was a gathering of the happies if you will. Or, if you won’t. This happened 5 years ago, so there really isn’t anything you can do about it now.

Long story short, my buddy took me to Zia Records where I picked up the (then) new self-titled Weezer album (their 3rd self-titled album). For those of you who are unaware of how violently hot Vegas gets in the summer, allow me to paint you a wet, sticky picture. Being mindful that records warp when exposed to extreme heat, I opted to place my recent find in the trunk of my car instead of in the front or backseat where the Sun had been playing all day. So, this guy here thought the hot, oven-baked trunk would be the logical solution to a potential $22.99 problem.

photo(14)As you can see, my decision was a poor one, and this copy of Weezer’s 3rd self-titled album is clearly unplayable. I’ve since repurchased this album (with grave hesitation), and I keep this guy around to remind me of how stupid I was on a hot summer day in Las Vegas.

Learn from the idiots, kids. Take your records indoors instead of locking them in the car where they die a painful, never-played death while warping in the 112 degree Vegas heat. Weezer would hope you’ll learn from the errors of The Prudent Groove, and take better care of your records. A thought just occurred to me. Maybe Weezer was working closely with the Sun so they could sell more records. Well played, giant middle-sized star & Weezer. Well played indeed.

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1994: Fourteenth Century Sky E.P. (The Dust Brothers aka The Chemical Brothers)

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Dust Bros CoverSo, here’s a fun little nugget of Electronic music history (fans of either band have known this for years)… The Chemical Brothers used to be called the Dust Brothers, and the Dust Brothers used to be called, wait for it… well, they were always just the Dust Brothers, so yeah, gotcha there.

Dust Brothers 101:

First came the Dust Brothers. The ACTUAL Dust Brothers. The LA-based cut-and-paste moguls famous for their early work with Delicious Vinyl. The same guys who happened to produce the groundbreaking, never-before-has-there-been-music-like-this Beastie Boys album, Paul’s Boutique. Then, over in Manchester, a couple of Dust Brothers fans starting making some badass music of their own, (out of homage or straight, blatant, rip-off) and also starting calling themselves the Dust Brothers. So, there was a time when the world saw two sets of dusted siblings. That was, until the ACTUAL Dust Brothers threatened the Manchester Dust Brothers with legal action. Having released two EPs and one single as the Dust Brothers, the Manchester boys decided on a new name. Based off the critically acclaimed track, Chemical Beats (found on this EP), the Manchester duo adopted the moniker, Chemical Brothers, and the rest is Electronic music history.

Dust Bros Label BThere was no bad blood between the two insanely talented groups. The original Dust Brothers supplied a remix to the 1997 hit single Elektrobank, No harm no foul, I suppose.

Fourteenth Century Sky is the Chemical Brothers’ second release (when they were still calling themselves the Dust Brothers. We JUST went over this!). They would release one more EP (My Mercury Mouth) before pulling the Big-Beat-trigger and forever changing their name to the Chemical Brothers.  This concludes the Prudent Groove inspired Cliffs Notes for Dust Brothers 101. Now, get outside. It’s a beautiful day.

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1991: Cypress Hill

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Cypress CoverCypress Hill was my single-handed introduction into the vast, unremitting world of Hip Hop music. I was a fair, Junior High student at a tiny school when introduced to this abstract genre (my graduating class was 63 kids… it sucked). Hip Hop as a whole is certainly not abstract, but when you grow up in a tiny town with tiny ideals and little room for any sort of outside thinking, it really didn’t get more abstract than Hip Hop (that was until I discovered AC, but that’s a post for another time).

Cypress RedCypress Hill boasts of bongs, fat-jammy-blasts and brotherhood (a nice way of saying “gang”), while set to a Funk backbeat and fanatical lyrics. LA’s finest scored a fat sack with these 16 tracks, so much so that it was remastered and released on blood-shot-eye-red vinyl (this version) in 2011 for its 20th anniversary.

You see, cassettes were big in my day, and I’m now spending the bulk of my “adult” life acquiring my trophy albums on vinyl. It was while listening to this album in the school library, via Walkman (and split ear buds hidden inside the sleeve of my shirt), that a buddy and I got busted for listening to music in school. Not busted so much as yelled at, but it scared us from ever doing it again. It was at that moment when I realized that Cypress Hill were a troublemakers, and at the age of 12, that was a welcoming ally.

The music is straightforward, early 90’s, social-class-bending Hip Hop. There emerged a slew of outstanding Hip Hop albums during the few years spanning 1989-1993, and the tongue-in-cheek approach mastered by Cypress Hill on this debut set the high-bong-water mark.

Cypress BackCypress Hill isn’t considered Old School Hip Hop, but for me, and my friends who dove headfirst into this genre, there is no school older than the music produced during the early 90s. Cypress Hill would hit another homerun with their 1993 release, Black Sunday. After that they’d release six more albums, but they never matched the perfect blend of ENORMOUS beats, witty lyrics, and catchy one-liners.

Lala la la lala la laaa!

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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

Back

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.