Nothing major tonight, except for a recent 78 find, at a reasonable $1, from the local brick and mortar down the street. Like everything that enters, at least one proper spin is required. This guy here is first in line for this weekend’s graduation-like introduction. Les Paul and Mary Ford. Please and thank you.
Tag Archives: wax
The Spy Who Slept In
A lot of my idiot friends dog Roger Moore as James Bond (I’m looking in your direction, Hardwick), but I find him to be an adequate agent of the secret nature. 1977’s The Spy Who Loved Me, and its motion picture soundtrack, is a fitting, and worthwhile example of classic, James Bond goodness. Take that, Brosnan.
Peter and the Wolf
I’m not sure The Rocking Horse Players and Orchestra’s rendition of Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf necessitates a slot in the collection, yet, there it rests, unplayed, and unloved. Perhaps it should have been passed up (by me at some random secondhand store of yesteryear) so that some modern-day-junior-vinyl-collector could begin his or her little record collection of favorite children stories. I mean, this isn’t a bad place to start given that it also contains The Shoemaker and the Elves, The Golden Goose, and Ozzie the Ostrich, but for someone in their mid-thirties, the appetite for Peter and his friend is all but blown away.
Protection
Protection is. Seldom it is not. These last two bundles, 25 apiece, 50 in total, represent the last needed blankets to cover the remainder of my 3000+ record collection. Certainly not a boasting opportunity, yet rather, a proclamation of a timely endeavor. First, it was the database… second, it was protection. Listen with good health, kiddos!
DWBH
When Fridays creep up on you (and this one most certainly has), it’s always a pleasant, and calming recess to loop the soothing earworm, Don’t Worry, Be Happy. It’s all I can do right now to maintain what ember of sanity dimly shimmers along the crescent alcove of the raging fire that sits in front of me. It’s a mad, salivating dash to Thanksgiving, kids, and I’ll gleefully accept defeat if, and when the needle rounds its last, vibrant groove. Don’t Worry, Be Happy.
Jump Up
Spice up your mundane Monday with a splash of enthusiasm with Mr. Harry Belafonte and his 1961 smash hit, Jump Up Calypso. The follow-up to 1956’s straight-shooting Calypso, Jump Up is a hurricane in all kinds of weather. Aside from offering both Angelina AND Jump in the Line, Jump Up Calypso was the unofficial soundtrack to the 1988 Tim Burton comedy, Beetlejuice. Listen to this, then watch that, and count how many times this album pops up. I count five, but I haven’t seen the film in a few years.
Monday’s don’t have to be banal. Sprinkle in a dash of Calypso, and your feet will feel as light as Caribbean air.
Also, if you’re in the states, don’t forget to vote tomorrow!
Dr. Johnny Fever vs. Tim Hardin
One wonders if Dr. Johnny Fever ever favored Mr. Hardin, and if the Cincinnati crowd ever embraced the heavyhearted songwriter quite like I have. There are a few notches on the Tim Hardin belt that I bet ol’ J. Fever would have enjoyed spinning, and somewhere, in the deep, orange and brown decorated closet of my imagination, a groove or two from Mr. Hardin may very well have found its way onto Mr. Fever’s plate, and was offered for all the Cincinnati area to enjoy.
If Tim Hardin lives, he’s certainly on the air in Cincinnati. Cincinnati, WKRP.
Happy Halloween, Kiddos!
Enjoy something sinister this evening from the master of suspense, and if you’re in the digital reading mood, have a gander at last year’s gruesome gravy!
M vs. S
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.
Red With Envy
Early Beatles… yay! Let’s ignore the crowning musical achievement of this band’s later, experimental work, and revel in the simplicities of cookie-cutter pop. OR, as if there was an alternative, let’s ignore 1962-1966 altogether, and skip directly to 1967-1970. Please, and thank you.
Sincerely, Associate Professor, T.P. Groove.
Fresh, Fall Aire
With fall in full, gravitational swing, slip into some Fresh Aire, by Omaha-based, rock ‘n classical music fusioned, Mannheim Steamroller. There are leaves on the cover, so… NATURALLY, this is a fall album, right?!
Anyway, Mannheim is solid, across the board, and also makes for comforting open, and yes, fresh air autumn music.
Jackie Wilson Said
It’s all too often that I find myself, in my latest years, listening to clumps of artists. From their vibrant beginnings, to their (almost) predictable conclusions, my listening preferences, as of late, have seen a steady crash of repeated listens by a single artist or group. A few months ago, it was Minutemen. As of last week, it was Tim Hardin (and I doubt that pool ever really dries up), before that was The Kinks, Hot Snakes, RFTC, Richard “Groove” Holmes, Jim Croce, and now, once again, it’s Van “The Man” Morrison. Jackie Wilson Said, everything was going to be a-okay.
Goodbye, Jack Bruce
May your legacy eclipse the minds of generations to come, and, will forever the word Cream be synonymous with your name.
Goodbye, Jack Bruce.
14 Sides of Commercial Jazz
This 7-disc classic Jazz comp by The Smithsonian Collection is a beast to tackle. Heavy on the Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, these 14 sides offer a grand overview of the weighty sphere known as Jazz, but with the scope of a bullet-pointed-casual-observer only seeking out the top 40 hits.
As I understand it, and I’m sure I’m wholeheartedly incorrect, Jazz is an organic entity that exists only as a deviation from the norm, until it became it. Like the Blues, Jazz is my most distant musical relative, but that doesn’t make The Smithsonian Collection of Classic Jazz that much less enjoyable.
Great Hits of the Great Bands
File this mistake under, “adolescent oversight.” This is as much an edition for collectors as the New Edition is a rival for most influential band of the 80s. You see, in 1997, big band music was big; at least it was where I grew up. It was a nostalgic glimpse into a well thought-out hoax, perfect to rival the Macarena and Aqua’s Barbie Girl. Commercial radio was sick-to-your-stomach-painful in the late 90s, and my overexcitement for something… ANYTHING different proved to be the better of me.
I had, in my faded understanding, neglected to grasp the fact that Great Hits of the Great Bands wasn’t a proper, cohesive release. I’d recently contemplated offering it up to the corner thrift if it weren’t for the sentimental value it (lethargically) held, but instead, I’ll keep it show the very simple, yet painful fact that very, very little has changed in the past 17 years.
The Backside to British Blues
Partially because I was too busy to snap a pic this morning, and partially because the importance of this “happened-upon” comp LP is the newest in my collection, I’ll milk the blues from this dry cow, and complete the front/back circle and, once again, suggest its esteemed seeking out.
If an endorsement by Jimmy Page isn’t enough… an endorsement by Jimmy Page should be damn well enough.
Beg Bri Blu
Cover distracted, ditsiness aside, The Beginning British Blues is a hint of British Blues history the laypeople (especially including myself) may not have otherwise been hip to. Bridging the Eric Clapton gap between The Yardbirds and Cream, the momentary glimpse of Clapton’s collaboration with John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers seems to be the bulk of the focus here. With back sleeve write-up by Jimmy Page (together with Miles Road, a duet with Mr. Clapton), The Beginning British Blues is a hidden treasure of historical significance, something this guy here just discovered he needed to possess.
VHS or Futon
This soft wave disco outing by the Louisville duo, VHS or Beta, will have to wait for a formal introduction until an unforeseeable time in the not-so-near future when I can get my bearings straight and offer a little more than a slum’s whisper towards a meandering, half-baked observation. It’s time for bed kids. The weekend is coming.
Best Always, Michael McDonald
Forged from a life-changing experience by some burned-up Doobies fan, this pristine copy of Michael McDonald’s 1985 album, No Lookin’ Back, rested perfectly, like a low hanging piece of musical fruit, amongst the drab and questionable murk at a Goodwill in the San Fernando Valley. Sandwiched between Art Garfunkel’s Angel Clare and Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass’ What Now My Love (neither of which resemble drab or questionable murk) sat this relic gem, and in less than 10 minutes, and for only $0.95, it was mine.
Why someone would part with such a profound and enlightened treasure is beyond me, but she now rests, calmly, within my analog graveyard. Someone had a hell-of-a day when this album was signed, and I thank them for their careless oversight.Stigmata
1988 was a good year for Ministry, and the quote, unquote, twelve-inch, maxi-single (of only two songs), Stigmata, highlighted the aggressive enthusiasm of its umbrella, The Land of Rape and Honey, and still serves as one of the best Ministry songs to date, some 26 years later. Yeah, that’s right… Stigmata is 26 years old, and Al Jourgensen, believe it or not, is still alive. Image that shit.
Anyway, a classic, with any given redefinition.
The Prudent Groove 