My heart belongs to Dad’s records

This week brings my dad’s birthday — he’d have been 99 — and Father’s Day. Been thinking about how the music my dad loved influenced the music I love.

Dad had a modest record collection, maybe 50 LPs. He held onto them long after he no longer had a record player or a stereo. When Dad was in his early 80s, and after I’d started collecting records again, he let me go through his stack. I took what I wanted and we donated the rest to a senior citizen center.

Having come of age in the ’40s, Dad’s favorite genres were swing music and boogie woogie. He filled the jukebox at the enlisted men’s club he ran in postwar Germany in 1946. He never dug rock and roll in the ’50s, but he still loved watching all kinds of music on the TV variety shows of the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s.

Dad’s record collection poops out about the mid-’60s. That’s probably when money became tight with three young boys to raise on a rather modest income.

Here are five records from Dad’s collection that I vividly remember.

"$64,000 Jazz" record cover from 1955

“$64,000 Jazz,” a compilation from 1955. I was fascinated by this cover because it pictured a scene from a TV show, “The $64,000 Question” quiz show. Per Wikipedia: “One category on the Revlon Category Board was ‘Jazz,’ and within months of the premiere, Columbia Records issued (this record) under the tie-in title ‘$64,000 Jazz.'” I don’t remember any of the music from it, though.

Cover of "Time Out" LP by the Dave Brubeck Quartet

“Time Out,” the Dave Brubeck Quartet, 1959. Quite possibly the coolest record in Dad’s collection. He must have seen and heard the Dave Brubeck Quartet on some TV variety show, most likely performing “Take Five,” the song I most vividly remember from this record.

Cover of "Remember How Great ...?" compilation record

“Remember How Great …?” a pop and jazz compilation from 1961. A promo for Lucky Strike cigarettes (which is odd because Dad smoked only cigars and a pipe). “A $3.98 value, yours for just $1 and 10 empty Lucky Strike packs.” Dad loved this record. We heard it often. l loved the colorful cover.

The A side opens with Count Basie’s “One O’Clock Jump,” one of Dad’s all-time favorites, and is followed by Les Brown’s “Sentimental Journey” with Doris Day on vocals. Two cuts later, Mary Martin sings Cole Porter’s “My Heart Belongs to Daddy.” The first song on the B side is Dinah Shore singing “Buttons and Bows.” All seared into my memory.

Cover of "Moving" LP by Peter, Paul and Mary

“Moving,” Peter, Paul and Mary, 1963. Dad was no hipster and no folkie. I’ve always wondered whether he bought this album — their debut record — for us kids. Back to back on the A side are “Puff” (aka “Puff, the Magic Dragon”) and “This Land is Your Land,” which we knew by heart as grade school kids. Dad must have seen and heard Peter, Paul and Mary on some TV variety show.

Cover of "Baja Marimba Band Rides Again" record

“Baja Marimba Band Rides Again,” the Baja Marimba Band, 1965. Julius Wechter, who played marimba and vibraphone for Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, led this group through a bunch of sweet, swinging instrumentals that had a strong Mexican flavor tinged with California cool.

As a kid, I loved their cover of “The Woody Woodpecker Song.” I played the bejeezus out of this album when I was a kid. I have Dad’s original copy, complete with pops, scratches, even the occasional skip. I also have two, maybe three additional copies, if only for better sound.

I also have some other Baja Marimba Band records that Dad never had. I don’t like any of them. I like this one and only this one. Again, seared into my memory.

(Fun fact: Among Dad’s albums were “Billion Dollar Babies” by Alice Cooper and “Back in Black” by AC/DC. They’d apparently belonged to my youngest brother, who left them at home. When his wife found out, she busted him, saying she’d given one or both to him when they were in high school or college.)

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Filed under June 2024, Sounds

If I had only 10 records …

Last week — May 23, to be precise — marked 49 years since the release of Elton John’s “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” album. It’s been one of my favorite records for that long.

Cover of "Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy" LP by Elton John.

That day, one of those classic rock Twitter feeds noted the anniversary and asked followers to mention their favorite cut from that record. A friend responded with “Someone Saved My Life Tonight.” Great choice.

I told my friend that if I had to cut my record collection to 10 albums, “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” from 1975 would be one. Great songs about young men becoming writers and navigating grown-up life. They appealed to a young man who wanted to become a writer and was navigating grown-up life as high school graduation loomed in the spring of 1975.

Knowing that, you may or may not be wondering … what are the other nine records on that short list?

In no particular order …

Shaft soundtrack LP

— “Shaft” soundtrack, Isaac Hayes, 1971. One of the first LPs I ever bought. I was 14. Hugely influential in shaping my musical tastes.

Cover of "A Night at the Opera" LP by Queen.

— “A Night at the Opera,” Queen, 1975. A staggeringly great record that I played hundreds of times.

— “Sweet Revenge,” John Prine, 1973. My introduction to the great John Prine.

Cover of "Boston" LP by Boston.

— “Boston,” Boston, 1976. The soundtrack to summer, best blasted from car speakers with the windows down.

Cover of "Purple Rain" soundtrack by Prince

— “Purple Rain” soundtrack, Prince and the Revolution, 1984. I thought “1999” was a great record. Two years later, I heard this. No comparison.

— “Nothin’ But the Truth,” Sleepy LaBeef, 1986. A live record, and thus the only record that captures the greatness of the rockabilly legend they called “The Human Jukebox.” When I started writing this blog, I did a Sleepy LaBeef sampler/appreciation post every week for the first year, 52 in all.

— “Two For the Price of One,” Larry Williams and Johnny Watson, 1967. The grail record. Tipped to it by my friend Larry Grogan in the late ’00s, I looked for it for years. Found a CD copy at Amoeba Records in Berkeley, California, in 2010. Lost track of an affordable vinyl copy in an eBay auction. Finally found it on vinyl at the mighty Mill City Sound in Hopkins, Minnesota, in 2019. Paid more for that record — $80 — than I ever paid for any record.

— “What’s Going On,” Marvin Gaye, 1971. When I listened to it again during the pandemic, this record had lost none of its punch.

Cover of "Raise the Roof" LP by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss

— “Raise the Roof,” Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, 2021. I wanted at least one record that isn’t older than dirt on this list. Plant and Krauss are wonderful together on both this record (I bought the red cover and not the blue cover) and on their first, “Raising Sand” from 2007.

Now, the back story. After my first run at 10 records, I had 16 records.

First I cut two compilations, “The Beatles 1967-1970” (the blue record from 1973) and “The Best of the Guess Who” from 1971. Then I cut “Nilsson Schmilsson” by Nilsson from 1971, “Excitable Boy” by Warren Zevon from 1978 and “Repeat When Necessary” by Dave Edmunds from 1979. At the end of the day, their body of work far outweighs any of these records. Then I cut “Get Yer Ya’s-Ya’s Out!” by the Rolling Stones from 1970, more or less the last on, last off the list.

Just one regret. There ought to be more women artists on this list.

Just one caveat. That is today’s 10-record collection. Tomorrow’s might be somewhat different.

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Filed under May 2024, Sounds

Record store of my dreams

Had this dream the other night.

Eric Clapton "Slowhand" partial cover

Someone handed me a small card. It had a simple black-and-white line drawing with an autograph. Eric Clapton’s autograph, perhaps? A crudely drawn riff on the “Slowhand” cover? A stick drawing, really, not close to what you see here.

(Clapton must have been lingering in my subconscious. I’d read he’d just turned 79. I’d also just read a biography of George Harrison, in which Clapton was a major figure.)

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

I’m directed to a tiny record shop. Seemed like it was in Milwaukee.

I show the card to the guy at the small counter.

“Where did you get this?” he asks.

“A friend gave it to me,” I say.

I pull out a chain made of bottle caps and paper clips with a small metal bar on top.

“Oh, maybe I should give you this, too,” I say.

I hang it on a hook at the top of the stairs to the basement. It seems to be a pass key of some kind. I have no idea where I got it.

To my left is Cousin Itt Girl. She’s a small thing with long bright green hair covering her face and reaching to the floor. She starts giving me the third-degree stink eye, inspecting my clothes, my look, my vibe, clearly disapproving. Behind her is long-haired, scraggly bearded Hippie Guy, watching her intently and nodding yes, probably stoned to the bejeezus.

I look around. All the walls are white, but there are no records on the wall. No record bins, either.

I ask the guy at the counter what kind of records they have. He says “outsider records” and do I have any?

“No,” I say, “I live in Green Bay. There are no outsider records there. A lot of country records but not that.”

I leave. It’s not my kind of place.

Dream or hallucination? Repressed animosity toward hipster swine?

Maybe I had too much to dream that night.

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Filed under April 2024, Sounds like bull to me

On the tip of my Tongue

Five years ago today — on Saturday, March 30, 2019 — I went record digging at a place that was new to me. (I don’t much care for that place today, but that’s another program.)

Tongue band LP cover, 1972

That day, I found this record, one I’d been seeking for a while.

Tongue was a blues-rock group from western Wisconsin. This record is from 1970. They made the rounds of an old Midwest roadhouse/club/festival circuit that’s long gone.

I’d long had a copy of this — their “Keep On Truckin'” LP — but it was rough. Missed out on another copy at the Chicago record show in the summer of 2018. The guy standing next to me grabbed it before I got to that crate. Passed on a $25 copy at a Minneapolis record store the following winter.

As I’m wont to do, I put my more reasonably priced find on the back porch when I got home, took the picture you see above and posted it to Facebook. My friends had some great stories about it. Enjoy.

Jay, who lives across the street, shared this:

“I met a Dial Corp. VP executive a few years back and we were reminiscing about both going to Stout. He told me he was in a band called Tongue during his college days. This same clean-cut, suit-wearing executive pulled out a picture of him in long hair and clothes similar to your cover photo. The name of the band always stuck in my head. This has to be the same one?”

It was the guy in the striped pants, bass player Bob Collins.

Jay again:

“He had a three-piece pinstripe suit and short hair when I met him. Guess he likes stripes.”

Fun fact: One of the songs Bob Collins co-wrote for the LP was called “Get Your Shit Together.”

Then my friend Jim K. shared this:

“Won this album on Feb. 2, 1972 — the night of the Vietnam draft lottery. Tongue was playing at the UW-Oshkosh union and anyone who was in the draft lottery that night was also entered into a drawing for this album. Double-winner that night — won the album and my draft number was high enough to never be called.”

That was a big deal when the draft was a thing. Jim still has his Tongue LP, too.

Fun fact: The band was called the Tennis Shoe Tongue Band when it came together in 1967. They shortened it to Tongue in 1970 and played under that name until they broke up in 1976.

My friend Larry took one look at my Tongue LP and said:

“That is one I would buy for the cover alone, no matter what it ended up sounding like.”

Pretty much everyone took notice of the guy with the walrus mustache and the huge Fro. That’s Paul Rabbitt, the lead singer and lead guitarist. He no longer has the walrus mustache and huge Fro. These days, he looks like a lot of 70-something guys from California, where he’s lived since Tongue broke up.

Fun fact: Tongue cut one single, also titled “Keep On Truckin’,” in 1970.

Paul Rabbitt has taken that single — a fan favorite at those long-ago gigs at roadhouses, clubs and festivals — to heart. He’s kept on truckin’, still playing rock and blues in his 70s.

(I can’t find a video of that single, but here’s the entire LP for anyone interested. Last time I saw it in the wild, in December 2022, it was priced at $84. Yikes.)

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Filed under March 2024

This boot is made for walking

As AM, Then FM quietly celebrates 17 years on the web, we may have arrived at a crossroads.

On this sunny Wisconsin afternoon, I’m sitting in my office for the first time in almost two months. Doctor’s orders. I’ve done almost nothing since having Achilles tendon surgery in early January. Stay off the foot. Only now — with this big walking boot having replaced the cast — am I getting a wee bit more mobile.

big walking boot

Unable to sit at my desk until now, I’ve been doing a lot on my phone.

Listening to music is one of those things.

My wife and I sit together in the living room. She has the TV on as background noise as she works. I’ll pop on the streaming shows put together by my friends Larry and Vincent, or stream my friend JB’s Saturday night ’70s show out of Madison, or stream WXPN out of Philadelphia, then turn the volume low and put the phone up to my ear so only I can hear it. Kind of a throwback to transistor radios late at night.

Digging for vintage baseball cards, that I’ve done on my phone, too.

Digging for records, though, is best done in person. It’s more fun. I still like doing it. I still like visiting record shops while traveling. But I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to that. Recovering from a torn Achilles can take up to a year, and I’m not exactly an athlete in his prime. I’ll be in the boot and on crutches for some time.

I did less record digging last year, in 2023, than in any year in recent memory, certainly less than in any year in the AM, Then FM era. Some of that was due to doctor’s orders to be less active in the immediate wake of detached retina and hip replacement surgeries. Some of that was already having found a lot of grail records. There isn’t much left on the wish list.

So I’m starting to wonder whether having a big record collection is becoming a burden. Having retired at the beginning of this year, I have more time to listen to records. Maybe I’ll go through them all and then begin moving them out.

One such record? You know the one. I found it three summers ago.

Nancy’s boot looks nicer than mine, but I’ll stick with mine for now.

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Filed under February 2024, Sounds