9.9.2008
Chainsaw Chick
Woulda shoulda coulda. "Since You Been Gone" (original title) is another one of those great songs that bounced around for a few years while different acts tried making it a hit, but it never really caught fire. Written by ex-Argent singer Russ Ballard, it first popped up on his 1976 solo Epic album "Winning," a sparse and kinda rushed tempo debut. A group called Head East just barely cracked the Top 50 with a gimmicky and forgettable version in 1978. In '79, Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow covered it on their "Down To Earth" album, what I think is the definitive version - find a copy and judge for yourself, it's up online at iTunes and Rhapsody and probably many other places, and the remastered CD is still around.
Meanwhile, The Runaways had come and gone. A loud, unpolished, punky (and eventually important) girl rock band that shortsighted huckster Kim Fowley had assembled as a jailbait-themed novelty act, The Runaways imploded in 1979, spinning off solo acts Joan Jett and Cherie Curry. After one solo LP, Currie joined her twin sister for a one-off album, "Messin' With The Boys." While "Since You've [sic] Been Gone" appears on the album, it's a much different mix than the one on this single, which is tighter and crunchier, and which has never been reissued. This version competed with Rainbow's single in 1979, with Rainbow marginally "winning" (peaking at #57, against the Curries' #95).
This one grows on you, even thought it's essentially a lost Toto record. There's a video performance of it from German TV on YouTube.
Cherie Currie is alive and well and, apparently, dangerous. She has two pretty good websites, www.cheriecurrie.com and www.chainsawchick.com, where this picture will make sense.
9.6.2008
A puppy!
It's generally accepted as fact that the original "River Deep, Mountain High" tanked in America because the music industry was fed up with Phil Spector and conspired to make his masterpiece fail. This explanation conveniently saves face for Spector, who truly was an eccentric genius; but what if the truth were something less sinister? Yes, it's a wonderful song, and Tina Turner gives the vocal performance of a lifetime, but perhaps - and please withhold your bricks, dogmatic rockcrits - perhaps it tanked because it was a bombastic, murky mess that was hard to hum, even harder to dance to, and sounded like crap coming out of little transistor radios and car speakers. Hell, maybe the American public had simply had enough of the Wall Of Sound and were ready to move on to the next sound; it happens all the time (I'd explain why it was a smash in Europe if I could do so without provoking you Europeans to burn my passport).
All that aside, record companies hate to waste a good song, and more than a few tried to repeat "River Deep's" Continental success in the States with a variety of artists and arrangements. This particular version, released a year after the original (i.e. in 1967), was arranged by then-studio rat Leon Russell and performed by Dobie Gray, who had just left Charger Records ("The In Crowd") for Capitol. It's faster and poppier, but somehow structurally disjointed, as if sections of the song were tossed into a hat, shaken up, randomly pulled out and performed. Interesting, though, goofy background vocals and all.
Is this really the same Little Joe & The Thrillers who recorded "Peanuts" in 1957? I thought they were from Brooklyn, and these guys were from Philly. Well, that guy's last name was also Cook, so I guess it has to be the same person. Perhaps this is what he sounded like when he wasn't inhaling helium. This little groover from 1974 is presented here with its original "oops, where's that fader at?" ending in all its glory.
This is a far cry from the uptempo doowop of 1961's "I Really Love You" (one of my favorite records from that era), and after reading the group's convoluted history as expertly researched by Marv Goldberg, I understand why: of the three remaining original members, two were playing tambourine, and the third the guitar. Originally released in 1967 on the tiny Hyde label, it was sold to and reissued on Cadet later that same year. I've taken the liberty of jamming sides A and B together, despite the irreversible fade in the middle. Funky Broadway, everyone!
Who in hell were these guys? One great single on Jamie, then no follow-up (I'm looking for another Combo Kings' single - "Let's Kopp A Groove" - on Romur records, which may not even be the same band, and which you Northern Soul knuckleheads have probably inflated to the price of a pre-owned Toyota by now). I'm picturing 1967, a bunch of skinny greasers in spangly jackets, once brilliant white but now gray and slightly tattered by years of cheap beer, sweat and cigarette smoke (both the greasers and their jackets), rockin' away in a dimly-lit frathouse cellar where 30 or so sloppy-drunk idiots are writhing about the floor doing the worm while their gum-chewing girlfriends look on in mock amusement/barely-concealed disgust. Not even two minutes, fer chrissake, hardly enough time to get the slow fizz into second gear. Maybe they had to fade it before the band stopped playing and started beating the shit out of that showboat guitarist.
I'll say it again: this is NOT the guy from the Velvet Underground (actually, I've never said it before, but just play along). This John Cale (nicknamed J.J. by a Sunset Strip club owner) was noted for his laid-back Tulsa style, and also for contributing two classics - "Cocaine" and "After Midnight" - to the Hall of Immortal Rock Songs That You'll Spit If You Hear One More Time. On his way to becoming a non-household name, Cale released a smally flurry of non-LP singles in the sixties, including this 1966 followup to the regional comer "Dick Tracy," which I'll play for you someday, maybe, if you're nice to me. Ol' J.J. will turn 70 in a few months, so this seems as good a time as any to spotlight this cool track, which predates the Crazy Horse sound by a goodly number of years.
8.18.2008
Doing Lecouna proud.
Formerly Billy Joe & The Continentals, The Bad Boys hailed from exotic Frederick, Maryland. Through some stroke of whatever, they wound up on a fledgeling Shreveport, LA label, teamed up with Charlie Daniels (!) as arranger. The result was this shameless (but lovable) 1966 "Good Lovin/Turn On Your Lovelight'" ripoff that's come to be revered by fuzz-punk collectors and other social misfits worldwide.
Paula Records would hit nationally the next year with John Fred & his Playboy Band's Judy in Disguise (With Glasses). The Bad Boys would change their name to Flavor and sign to Columbia. where they'd eventually record a more sedate version of this raver (currently available on this compilation)
These Trenton, NJ guys began as the Galaxies IV, who recorded several garageband classics (now available on Sundazed's Garage Beat '66, Vol.'s 4 and 6). In 1969 they changed their name to The Alexander Rabbit and recorded this one-off single for A&M.; Despite the unexceptional A-side, the band earned its spot in the rock firmament when they decided to cram their opus 7-minute bar band showstopper onto the flip. An orgy of boneheaded thrashing that the Vanilla Fudge would have considered excessive, Malaguena stands as a wonderfully Spinal-Tap-worthy snapshot of the indulgent weirdness that was rock in 1969.
The next year they were signed to Mercury, releasing an album called The Hunchback Of Notre Dame (The Bells Were My Friends). Guitarist Chris Holmes (a.k.a. Duke Williams) a few years later formed Duke Williams & The Extremes, releasing a couple of albums on Capricorn.Due to its epic length, this one requires a little patience before the payoff. Believe me, it's worth the wait.
8.6.2008
Ain't got no words (well, not many)!
I love throwaway B-side instrumentals. The musicians are usually having a lot more fun just jamming there than on the carefully-rehearsed A-side. Such is the case for this one by Jamo Thomas' Party Brothers. Thomas, probably the only Bahamian ever to make noise in the U.S. soul circuit, kicked around a bunch of labels, leaving collectors with a breadcrumb trail of collectible singles to seek out. Greensboro, North Carolina's Party Brothers (also known as The Mighty Majors) backed up Jamo on his greatest single, "I Spy (For The FBI)," and then released two singles of their own, this being the first.
Les Cooper and The Soul Rockers had one great instrumental hit, 1962's "Wiggle Wobble." Three years later, sound more or less unchanged, they took a less successful stab at the charts with this fun follow-up. I was surprised to find a group compilation album - "Wiggle Wobble" - still available on Amazon. Bobby and Danny Robinson's labels - Fire, Fury, Enjoy, Everlast and others - featured consistently good R&B; performances pressed on the crappiest, noisiest vinyl in existence, so much so that the grunge became a familiar part of the music. I cleaned up some of the more egregious crackle on this record, but left in enough schmutz to keep it authentic.
One of the great band break songs of all time, "Dawn" glommed onto a fair amount of Top 40 radio play in 1963. More often than not, you'd only hear parts of instrumentals like this played near the top of the hour, so the DJ could talk his way up to news atop a bed of music. There isn't a lick of info or pictures about this group to be had online, but I do believe they were out of Chicago. Keyboardist Rockingham's son Greg continues the tradition by drumming in a modern-day Hammond group, The Deep Blue Organ Trio, who've released several cool albums and a DVD (read and hear more here). Anyway, I'm willing to bet that this was less a band than it was a bunch of Chicago locals who sometimes gigged together, with guitarist/aspiring record producer Bobby Robinson bringing them together in the studio to see what they could do. Considering the time and place and their contemporaries, I wouldn't be surprised if that was Maurice White on the drums. "Dawn" is one of my all-time favorite records, and - after hunting down no fewer than half a dozen copies, I'm happy to play you the cleanest copy you'll probably ever hear.
7.29.2008
It's a hap, hap, happy hoedown!
Of the thousands of songs named "Spring Fever," this one has to be the springiest. The flip side of a kinda lame beatnik-spoof instrumental, this is about as frantic as easy-listening music got in 1962, as if Percy Faith started doing crystal meth. It was also a quintessentially perky piece of production music, and when I hear it I expect some announcer to read me the morning farm report, or an ad for Harry's Septic Tank Service or such. This is not to demean or diminish the considerable talents of the late Salvador "Tutti" Camarata, a musician, arranger, and conductor of note. Camarata brought wit and intelligence to the insipid world of '50s kiddie music when Walt Disney hired him to run his new record label, and Buena Vista Records diversified and prospered under his care. Perhaps more significantly, Camarata was responsible for opening Sunset Sound Recorders in Hollywood, the absolute epicenter of what would come to be the California Sound. I could go on and on, but won't. You should read Camarata's Wiki entry here, and Disney's glowing (if criminally non-updated) bio here. To my knowledge, this track has never appeared anywhere except on this obscuro single. I strongly advise you NOT to try driving while listening to this; not only will the relentless barrage of notes cloud your brain, but you'll be doing 110 before it's half over. Listen now before Disney's rabid pack of attorneys rips me to shreds.
7.27.2008
Harry, play those drums!
Among the kinds of people who would argue about such things, there has existed a persistent urban myth that "Bertell Dache" was actually Tony Orlando. This is because they both recorded songs for Aldon Music, the Kirshner pop stable at 1650 Broadway, probably using the same musicians and studios. It's since been proven that Dache (pronounced Da-Shay) indeed existed, leaving a legacy of a pair of desirable Goffin-King-penned singles. This one is an answer record to "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow," notable not only because it was Carole King's first credited arrangement, but also because she can clearly be heard singing on it. King's overdub is missing from the Ace answer-records collection CD, but it's here as ripped from the original 45.
Hi-subsidiary label M.O.C. wasn't very prolific, issuing about 30 singles before folding, it's biggest hit being Murry Kellum's "Long Tall Texan." Among the final four releases was this loping little funk instrumental by D.C.-based organist Seleno Clarke. Clark has since spent most of his years in New York City, where he still hits the B-3 at clubs such as Smoke on upper Broadway. He also maintains a modest website (here) where you can find out more about the man, and perhaps buy his later recordings.
Rest his blessed soul, drummer Ronnie Kae departed this earth in 1993, but not before he left his mark on the music world with a great, simplistic 1962 stomper called "Swinging Drums" (you can read more about and even listen to it here). He would form one of Denver's premier musical instrument shops - Drum City (still in biz as Drum City - Guitarland, visit here) in 1965, and go on to release a few more obscuro records in Colorado. 1993's epic "Harry - Play Those Drums" was probably one of his last outings, and it's apparent that in the 30+ years since his recorded debut, Kae had managed to maintain a certain, er, economy in technique. Unless this isn't Kae, but someone named Harry, whom I can only pray was someone's child prodigy.
Poor Little Eva's shooting star had nearly dropped below the horizon when she released this single in 1966. Originally a semi-salacious UK hit by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich, "Bend It"" never dented the U.S. Hot 100 (purportedly because it had been banned, but more likely because it just never caught on with American listeners). Eva (by this time little in name only) toned down the leering and turned it into a more innocuous pop thingie, with the assistance of producer Creed Taylor. Still, bupkis. Little Eva Narcissus Boyd died in 2003 at age 60, leaving the world with one all-time classic, "The Loco-Motion." which - after beginning her career as Carole King's babysitter - is still a pretty wonderful legacy.