Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young “So Far”

I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear this record when it came out in 1974—it must have been some years later. I didn’t realize, at the time, that it was a compilation record. It just was—had a bizarre cover, and the back cover was totally blank, which meant (     )? (Finally figured that one out!) I didn’t have any records by any of these guys—though I had this 1973 Warner compilation where I heard songs by each of them in other combinations—though no songs from this record, except for Joni Mitchell’s version of her song, “Woodstock,” and no Neil Young (though, a song by Neil Young). The relationships were all too complicated for me to wrap my brain around—I probably assumed they were all living in one, big, California commune. I probably also thought there were drugs involved. One made a lot of assumptions, and your only information came from the records, the late-night musical showcase TV shows, and the 3 music magazines I read. I can actually nail down when I did first listen to this—around 1977—because I was directly influenced by it in my poetry (as in, I ripped it off), and I have dated, accessible, documentation (which is kind of sick, if you think about it). I think I also ripped off Joni Mitchell’s drawing style (the album cover, which is pretty nice). I really did love this record at that time—and it sounds great to me now—in part due to nostalgia. I don’t think I appreciated, back then, though, the excellence of their singing, the harmonies, and the overall sound. I did appreciate the songs—where does that appreciation come from? Anyone can love a song, I guess. But I didn’t appreciate what an incongruous collection of songs these were—instead, they seemed to fit together like the ingredients of a deluxe pizza. So, what does this record make me think of now? Christmas. Weed. Driving around and drinking beer. Pizza.

Laura Nyro “Eli and the Thirteenth Confession”

I never listened to Laura Nyro when I was younger—except for, of course, the songs that were on the radio—in which case I had no idea it was Laura Nyro—and over the years I heard that name without attaching it to any of those songs. I used to see her records in cheap bins and thrift stores all the time—she was on a major label (Columbia) and had an early pop radio hit (“Wedding Bell Blues”) so it’s likely she sold a lot—making them accessible, now. Anyway, during a particular lull a few years back, one day it came over me to look up Laura Nyro on the big database, at which time I saw her discography, and learned that she died at a young age—though I didn’t read much else. I then decided I’d make it a project to listen to all of her records—since I could actually find vinyl copies. Of course, when I then went to the store with the particular intention of finding her records, I could no longer find any. This went on for the better part of a year—very frustrating—but then I found one, and another… and now I have the first half-dozen or so. This is her second LP—from 1968.

There’s a full band on this record, horns even, though piano is at the heart of the matter. There’s a nice balance with her singing—and she does a lot of singing—there are backing vocals, as well, which sound like Laura Nyro, too—so that’s my guess. Thirteen songs altogether, each one a pop song experience—I’m not familiar with any at first, until “Poverty Train,” which I’ve heard somewhere. And then on the second side, “Stoned Soul Picnic” I recognize from the Fifth Dimension version. I believe a few people had hits with her songs. As I’ve said a million times, I’m not good at isolating lyrics—and maybe isolating is the right word, at least for me—because for me to register lyrics I have to cease listening to the song as a whole and favor the words over the music. I don’t like doing that, really, at least until I’ve heard a record a lot of times and have the music ingrained in my memory. So even if there’s a lyric sheet, I don t like to read it until I know the music pretty well. Does that make any sense? I don’t think other people necessarily have this problem—some people pick up the lyrics immediately. No lyric sheet here—though there is an inner sleeve with a Columbia Records rundown of “new artists”—with quite a bit of writing, even—which looks interesting—might be worth a review of its own. Good songs—Laura Nyro can write songs, that’s for sure. “Woman’s Blues” is a standout on the second side. She sure can sing, too—almost too much—but I’m not going to be critical—because it’s what she does—sings to excess. Overall, I like this record like I like breakfast and coffee—and I’m feeling happy my Laura Nyro experiment is starting out on a worthwhile foot.

The Champs “Too Much Tequila” / “Twenty Thousand Leagues”

I admit that I didn’t know it was The Champs who wrote and recorded the song “Tequila” (released in 1958)—the only song you’ve heard more than “Happy Birthday” and “Hotel California” combined. It’s a fun song, but I’m sorry, it’s not as fun as drinking Tequila. If there was ever a song that had been covered and used in TV, movies, and during happy hour TOO MUCH, it would be “Tequila”—but I doubt if The Champs foresaw this in 1959 when they put out “Too Much Tequila.” Well, maybe they did—they’re pop/tequila geniuses, after all. I’m sure you’ve heard this one, too, I’ll bet, as well, as I sure have—I just didn’t know the name. I admit that when I found this record in the “last chance” bin, I was hoping this would be a twisted hillbilly saga of excess and woe—but no dice. I mean, it’s a great song—I like it better than “Tequila”—and there isn’t much I like better than Tequila.  The B-Side, “Twenty Thousand Leagues,” however, takes it to another level—it’s a weird one. It starts out with some burbling, gurgling, bubbling water, then a repetitive groove with a ridiculously extreme reverb-heavy guitar playing a psychedelic surf riff—nice. But the best part, there’s a barely recognizable sax, punctuating, blowing more air than notes—so it sounds like oxygen escaping a deep-sea diving suit. It borders on creepy—but is ultimately just pretty funny. I’m sure this song must have been used to great effect in some Lynch/Tarantino/whoever movie somewhere, but I’m not going to impinge upon my evening digging up that info—let me know in the comments.

The Mamas and the Papas “People Like Us”

I didn’t have any The Mamas & the Papas records as a kid—maybe I was too young—I heard the hits on the radio, of course—but it wasn’t until I was in my forties much older that I really started to like them—in part, because I could find all the records at thrift stores—and I bought all their records more or less at once and never really differentiated between them. Over time, I liked a few songs here, a few songs there, but never really got the album identity in my mind. What I’d like best is to make one LP from my favorite songs from their five studio LPs—which would be like my own personal greatest hits record. It’s funny, I noticed they have at least ten greatest hits compilations over the years (and I’m sure there are many more)—and I’ll bet anything none of them come close to containing my favorite songs (while including ones I don’t care for)—in fact they are probably all basically the same. How do I get the job of making the 2023 The Mamas & the Papas compilation record—based on my opinion alone?

The album cover pretty much looks like a record by a band that is no longer a band (which is the case)—and the art department tried as hard as possible for good feelings, but John Phillips looks so demented both on the front and the back cover—there is only so much an art department can do. On the other hand, how many young people buying this record were just plain attracted to the demented look? I really like this record even though it doesn’t have as good overall sound or performances as their earlier ones (I read that Cass Elliot was sick during recording this and couldn’t contribute that much, and I guess you really miss her singing). Anyway, the songs are good—all by John Phillips, except “I Wanna Be a Star”—by Michelle Phillips—and one of the better songs on the record—equaling John’s songs in creepiness. “Mr. Producer, don’t seduce her…” etc., and then: “…in your new production…” (production sung in a way that it may as well mean: “fucking, followed by human sacrifice.” Part of what I’ve always liked about The Mamas & the Papas is their kitschy side coupled with their creepy side. Here’s some examples: “…where a Dixie Cup becomes a chalice,” and, “I’m on my knees your majesty.” Other favorite songs are “Grasshopper”—just a dumb pop song, but really catchy—it’s about a woman who likes to get around, I guess, but has some minimal, but subtly creepy poetry. And “Blueberries for Breakfast” with line like: “Butterflies in my trousers—under the august moon.” And “I’m gonna have to call the cops if you don’t leave me alone. Stop waiting at the bus stop.” Then something about the FBI and CIA, and “I’ll cut you to the bone,” and some demented laughing. Something is not right with those blueberries.