Billy Preston “Music Is My Life”

I’m not sure if I remember any songs from this 1972 album from when I was 12—maybe so, because that was apparently an impressionable year for music for me. The first couple of songs sound very familiar, even though I don’t know the songs. Billy Preston wrote or co-wrote everything except for “Blackbird.” This is, by the way, a rare record where a Lennon-McCartney cover doesn’t function as a death-anchor, because he improves the song, at least in my opinion, in spite of a prominent harpsichord (in parts). Speaking of keyboard instruments, the back cover photo is a God’s eye view of BP and no less than ten keyboard instruments—your keyboard geek friend might be able to identify them all (I can’t, except for the Hammond and the Wurlitzer, and I’m pretty sure that one is a Hohner Clavinet—one of my favorite instruments). “I Wonder Why” is an excellent soul number, both political and spiritual. Speaking of God, there are quite a few overtly Christian flavored songs. My favorite is “Make The Devil Mad (Turn On To Jesus).” I do remember Billy Preston either having a heavy Christian period, or always being so, but I’m not going to research his bio and paraphrase it—anyone who’s interested already knows—or can easily look.

What I remember about Billy Preston from my childhood was an imposing looking dude with the biggest afro I’d ever seen. His hair really was impressive—and if you search Wikipedia for “afro,” their first photo example indeed is BP. (This recalls the old joke about looking at the dictionary definition of something seeing someone’s picture… that is almost literally true here!) Then I remember him playing with the Rolling Stones a lot—I recall some pretty excellent photos from Rolling Stone magazine, with the Stones—which lent anyone, at that time, a veneer of danger—though that was mostly mythologizing. Many people, I’m sure, have seen that recent Beatles Get Back documentary, which prominently featured a younger Billy Preston—and so it was really nice for me to see this whole other side of him than I remembered. I used to watch those late-night rock shows like Midnight Special pretty religiously, and also Soul Train, whenever that was on—but I don’t recall seeing BP solo—though it’s likely I did at some point. (A quick check with YouTube, and sure enough—good video, and nice orange suit, too!) “Will It Go Round In Circles” is the song from this record that I know—I heard a lot of that one over the years—it brings back the early Seventies like a time machine. That’s a great song.

Jefferson Airplane “Crown of Creation”

Not having ever heard this album, I don’t think, I was alarmed when the first song transported me right back to my Renaissance Faire days, and besides that has goofy sound effects—though the typewriter is nice. After that, though, the record sounds like Jefferson Airplane, inasmuch as I have an idea of what the band sounds like in my relatively limited exposure to them (I never was a big fan, though I’ve always liked them. But I didn’t have any of their records, growing up). The album cover apparently did not register with me because I accidentally bought a copy when I already had one. It’s funny, they are both worn out in exactly the same way—looking like they were stuck tightly in the same Peaches crate since 1968. There’s a photo of the band huddled in the middle of what looks like a nuclear explosion, though for whatever reason, my brain registered the whole thing as a semi-abstract rendering of a giant chicken head. Also, funny, the photo of the band is altered (and there’s a larger version on back) so it looks like you’re seeing double (funny in light of me buying two of them).

It’s a good record, so I’d be happy to give my extra copy to someone—and I also plan on listening to mine, on occasion, which is, from me, a five-star review. I love their style and their sound—I kind of regret I didn’t buy all their records as a lad. An interesting thing occurred to me, during one particularly laid-back song, and it echoed a thought I had the other day while listening to some hippie folk blues rock (can’t remember what), and that was how I heard a spot that noticeably lagged a bit—that is, there was not that mechanical adherence to time that you hear with music that’s recorded on a digital grid, or however it’s done, now. A little messy, a little lazy, a little intoxicated—I don’t know, but 100% human and soulful. When I’m walking around, hearing music that’s enforced seemingly everywhere, I often find myself getting irritated—not because I recognize it or don’t (I don’t, usually)—why? Maybe it’s because it’s made by machines more than it’s made by humans, I don’t know. Anyway, it would be nice to hear a song from this record in the mall, someday (though maybe not “The House at Pooneil Corners”—unless you’re shopping for survival supplies). Actually, I’d love to hear that at the mall.

Gallery “Nice to Be with You” / “Ginger Haired Man”

Gallery “Nice to Be with You” / “Ginger Haired I must have picked this one up for the attractive label—looking like a squashed pumpkin—how would it look spinning? Kind of awkward—though it might look good at a much faster speed—like 1000 RPM. It’s the Sussex label—overseas? No, an LA address—I wonder if they’re still there, I’ll look it up, 6430 Sunset Blvd.—big, ugly office building—well, it’s Hollywood. “Ginger Haired Man”—I guess I listened to the B-Side first—sounds a little like a forgotten Tommy Roe song—failed to excite me. So, what’s this A-Side, with the most innocuous title ever. Oh. It’s that song. It’s funny to really listen to it now, because the intro, the solo, even the verses all sound like music—but the chorus… “It’s no nice to be with you, etc.”—is so ingrained in my mind—will that kind of deep programming ever go away? Probably not. When did I hear this on the kitchen AM radio? Every single day while eating my Pop Tarts and dreading grade school, 1972, and then probably on the car radio, and in public—it’s a brain tattoo if I ever heard one. A number 4 hit, so hopefully they made some money—I’m sure they’re nice people. Songwriter, band leader, Jim Gold, from Detroit (probably heard this endlessly on CKLW)—weird, I’m watching a movie directed by Jack Gold—same person? No. I get confused because my dad’s name was John James—so he went by those, but also Jim, Jimmy, J.J., and he called people Jack, so I get them all confused. How’d they ever score that excellent band name? Gallery. Jackpot. That could mean art gallery, rogues gallery, the gallery in a golf tournament (AKA, human backstop), or a shooting gallery—in a carnival—or else the dilapidated, roach-infested flophouse where doomed junkies get together and share dirty needles. Really sorry to bring you down, there! What else? It could be the gallery in everyone’s heart—the place where we display the best of ourselves, our natural brilliance, shining genius, and true love.

Skeeter Davis “Skeeter Sings Dolly”

Just as the title implies, this is an album by Skeeter Davis, and she is singing Dolly Parton songs. Ten songs, all written by Dolly Parton (a few with co-writers), originally recorded by her, of course. It would be interesting to listen to them back-to-back, the Dolly version, then the Skeeter version. Next rainy day. The cover is an exceptional photograph (as goes for most Skeeter Davis records). Skeeter is out in the woods somewhere, or maybe a very nice back yard, looking contemplative, and she’s wearing an incredible looking long dress—all I can say about it is, that’s some dress. Should I try to describe it? No—I don’t think I could pull it off. The liner notes are exceptional—there is a full column written by Dolly Parton about Skeeter Davis, and this record, “…she has paid me the greatest compliment anyone could ever pay a songwriter.” And how much she likes Skeeter Davis personally: “I think I’ll call her sunshine.” She even lets on what her favorites on the record are: “Just the Way I Am,” “Daddy Was an Old Time Preacher Man,” and “Down from Dover.” Then there’s a whole column by Skeeter about Dolly, and how much she loves her songs—“I think she is destined to become a writer whose songs will be sung forever.” Remember, Skeeter was about 15 years older than Dolly, and this record is from 1972, when Dolly Parton was only in her mid-twenties—though, of course, already a big star with over a dozen records out. Skeeter also mentions some of her favorites on the record: “In the Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad),” “Just the Way I Am,” and “Down from Dover” (which she says is her favorite on the album). Since they’re doing it, I may as well weigh in on my favorite songs on the record, as well: “Put It Off Until Tomorrow,” “Fuel to the Flame,” and “Down from Dover.” (I made those picks right while listening, before I read the notes, so as not to be influenced by the ladies.) I guess we all agree on “Down from Dover”—and it is a pretty great song. No reason to pick favorites, though, all ten are good. Though I do have a particular fondness for “Fuel to the Flame.” Dolly and I share a birthday. Skeeter is my all-time favorite singer. Dolly’s from Tennessee, Skeeter’s from Kentucky, and I’m from Ohio. I tried to single-handedly rid both their states of their whiskey. Failed.

Thomas Electronic Organ – “Demonstration Record”

It’s not a band or a song—just trying to keep the heading under control. The full title is: “Here is the amazing new single manual Thomas Electronic Organ. The first luxury organ without a luxury price.” There is no record label, really, except “Thomas”—but it looks like a cool record label—in that “ye-olden thymes” font (not a real name, I’m just calling it that) silver letters on dark blue. I’d be on that record label. I can’t find the date—I’m guessing it’s the 1960s—but I may be wrong. It’s a “Demonstration Record” for their line of home organs—I’m not going into the history of the company or how they compared with similar products of the time—you can find it all online. I can’t resist these promotional/demonstration records, when I see them (if the price is right) just because they are odd artifacts that kind of function as time machines. You can find no end to them on YouTube, of course, but listening to the actual object is a completely different kind of thrill. The narrator is classic—I wonder who that guy is. If you were going to find an actor to play a guy reading narration on an electronic organ demonstration record, this would be your guy. He says things like… “and finally, the diophasing effect…” I’m kind of making that up—I don’t know what he’s saying. He also says, “You can’t make a bad sound with a Thomas.” Maybe that’s about the “Color-Glo System”—or I missed something. I “collect” (inasmuch as I collect anything) versions of the song, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”—just because I’m obsessed with it—partly due to a Thelonious Monk version that may be my favorite piece of recorded music. Anyway, the record starts out with the organ playing that very song. I’ll see if I can identify any other songs. “America the Beautiful,” “Tea for Two,” “Lover” (Rodgers and Hart). There’s another, it’s really familiar, but I don’t know. And it ends with something I’ve never heard before. The record is certainly not collectable, and I don’t think the organs are either—but I read that they did, for a time, have the rights to produce Moog synthesizers—so those might be exciting to find. Here’s a tip—the Model 370 Monticello spinet organ had a synth built into the upper manual—that might be kind of cool.