Archive for the 'no sleeves or puffy sleeves' Category

22
Feb
20

Parliament “The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein”

“Funk is its own reward.” “May frighten you.” I think someone speaks those words, in a kind of intro, or did I just imagine that? There’s a giant list of credits that reads like a funk all-star band, so I’m not sure who is doing what on any song, but I assume there’s a lot of George Clinton. There’s a couple of short songs, then the epic song, “Dr. Funkenstein,” which is a fairly slow, laconic, extremely funky whole-world of a song, with a chanted chorus and voices coming in from all over the place, speaking, singing, stream-of-consciousness. There is this pretty simple but genius repetitive guitar part that runs through it that I just want as the theme song for my life. The song is six minutes, but I wish it was a lot longer. I never do this, but I’m going to buy this song for my computer (sometimes I listen to music there, at home, when I’m not playing records) so I can just play this on repeat for hours. It’s like a TV show theme song, or a whole TV show, or movie. This record came out in 1976, and I may have heard it at a party, but probably not. I was in the phase of progressing directly from prog-rock to punk rock, but I missed the boat here. A few years later, one of the funniest and most offensive punk records I’ve ever heard, Black Randy and the Metrosquad’s “Pass the Dust, I Think I’m Bowie,” has songs that just lift directly from Dr. Funkenstein. I don’t know why, exactly, but I just keep listening and listening to this song. With all the sound effects, and odd vocals—spoken parts, some in annoying cartoon voices, some in frog-voice—stuff that would normally get on my nerves—but here it sounds like a symphony of good insanity. All of the songs on this record are good, including one of those super-long-title ones, “I’ve Been Watching You (Move Your Sexy Body),” and “Let’s Funk Around,” which exploits that tireless and seemingly inexhaustible tradition of using the word “funk” in place of the word “fuck.” The cover (front and back) is also first-rate, with members of the band, presumably, dressed for the stage, or the lab, in some kind of a 1970s television sci-fi set, a good one. I remember looking at a partial discography for Parliament—just the list of titles from the Seventies—all just excellent, mysterious titles. I wonder if these are easy to find—I mean, not for hipster prices, normal person prices—I’ll keep an eye out for them. It’s like a crime against my sensibility that I don’t own any Parliament Funkadelic vinyl.

21
Feb
20

Psychedelic Furs “Midnight to Midnight”

The Psychedelic Furs were a band I liked a lot at one time but never bought any of their records. Why was that? I have to ask myself about these bands who I remember liking a lot in the Seventies and early Eighties, when I bought a lot of records, but never bought any of their records. I can’t figure that one out. Anyway, I only remember seeing one album (maybe their first), from sometime in the early Eighties—and I feel like that was it for me—I either got sick of them, or just made the executive decision that they began to suck on record number two and never recovered. I had pretty unmovable opinions back then, often wrong even more than I am now. I pretty much despised “new wave” bands—though I suppose there were a few exceptions. By the time this record came out in 1987, I would have dismissed it just because the cover looked like an ad for hair gel. Who was my favorite band around that time? I remember liking Half Japanese a lot. Certainly nothing as slick as this record, had I heard it. But I do have this vague memory of being kind of haunted by that guy’s voice, the singer, Richard Butler. I have no idea of what he’s all about. What a distinctive voice, though—who would I compare him to, as a singer? Maybe Lou Reed? It’s not like he’s singing opera, but there’s no one in the world who’s going to sing like Richard Butler better than Richard Butler. What else could the guy do, anyway, be a telemarketer? You’d answer the phone and just have to say this is too surreal. I wonder what he’s doing now? Hopefully not pushing up daisies. Anyway, that’s a lengthy introduction just to say that I really like this record. It kind of surprised me, actually, because of the big sound, the Eighties production, etc.—not something I’m nostalgic for, but the songs are just really good—some of them, anyway—some way better than others. I don’t like everything about it—like some of that sax, yikes—that guy Mars could find himself on the sax offender registry. But I’m generally pretty forgiving about all the parts, here, as the whole is listenable, and sometimes even compelling. I wonder what the guys are doing now—maybe working at haberdasheries. Maybe one owns a corner pub, and maybe one runs an ice fishing camp up here, like the one I’m visiting tomorrow. I’ll be buying bait… “Wait, weren’t you in that band? For a while, back then, you made me believe in love.” “You and me both,” he says. “You want some wigglers?”

18
Oct
19

Joy of Cooking “Closer to the Ground”

I had never heard of this band, and the cover—a stoner painting of an easy chair in the woods—didn’t exactly say, “buy me,” but the back cover—a full-sized photo of five hippies—pretty much dated it (1971)—and that’s a good date. Three men and two women, and not Fleetwood Mac. I was expecting the worst hippie folk imaginable, but figured it was worth checking out. A band name like “Joy of Cooking” could mean you have songs about making bread and lentils, or it could be a major drug reference, or it could mean, as band, you cooked, you got down, you rocked out. To my delight, for the most part, the latter is the case. I mean, there are still plenty of hippie folk elements, but even that’s not always a bad thing, and sometimes a good thing. Some of the songs are pretty hard, and some are soulful. It’s not Janis Joplin, but then, who is? There are a lot of musical influences, and the songs are kind of all over the place, kind of hard to pin down, and I don’t mind that at all. It’s a record worth listening to a few times, and what I hear of the lyrics, initially, is also intriguing. Actually, as I listen more… some really good lyrics. So, it turns out the songs, vocals, guitars, and keyboards are by the two women in the band, Toni Brown and Terry Garthwaite. This is their second LP, and from what I read, personnel has changed since the band formed (in Berkeley)—but it’s Toni and Terry’s band.

There’s seriously a lot of interesting stuff going on here. I’m kind of surprised they weren’t a much bigger band—but then, they are on a major label, and I bet they have their enduring fans. I’m going to check out the lyrics more, now. The record folds open, and there are lyrics and black and white photos inside. Also, there’s a separate lyric sheet—I’m confused for a moment, then realize it’s to their first record. No doubt some shelving confusion with the record’s previous owner. Maybe that means I should make a point of finding their first record. Anyway, not much about lentils or bread, and as a band, they do pretty much cook. One song in particular stands out like a sore thumb, or should I say, the opposite. There are not any bad songs, but this one, called, “Sometimes Like a River (Loving You)” was somebody’s (Toni Brown’s) very good day on the songwriting magic path—it’s so good, it’s the song when the record is over, you go back and play that one again. I may be wrong (1971 was a weird-ass time), but I’m guessing when they played live, this was the song where a few notes in, the audience would be hooping a hollering, people would get up to dance, people would sing along—that love-making thing between the band and the audience. Excellent lyrics, too, check out this line: “Sometimes like a new wind you touch my hand / And I can feel the sudden pleasure in not knowing.” That makes me want to cry. I feel like I’m being kind of annoying, loving one song so much more than the others, but then, for me, songs are what it’s all about. All songs were not created equal. Everyone knows that, but we tend to forget it when we’re bored on uninspired. It takes a truly excellent song to remind you that, yes, music is the best thing there is, better than love, sex, hash brownies, and even bank accounts.

31
Jul
19

Neko Case “The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You”

That’s the kind of title, I admit, that I wish I had thought of, for anything, I suppose, but really, it’s best for a pop album, or maybe a novel. Could be a song or a short story, I guess. Maybe a song on this record? We’ll find out. It’s a sentiment easily understood on first hearing it, but when you think about it a little further you realize that “you” and “things” are inextricably linked. And who is “you?”—could it be, in this case me? I may be wrong about this, but I think I follow Neko Case on Twitter, and I might of replied to something she tweeted, and she may have replied to my reply. So in my mind, that means we’re like this far from dating. Oh, boy. Someone come up with a better term than “social media”—please! The only thing that saves me, in this case, is that I’m not sure. I maybe fabricated that whole exchange. She’s got a great singing voice—certainly one that inspires ones heart to stop, or whatever that metaphorical heart does when confronted with beauty and clarity. The songs are catchy, compelling, and I can understand the lyrics (no lyric sheet) even if I can’t understand what they’re about. I mean, maybe I could, if I really worked at it, but I’m short on time and wine and cool dry air. I will vow to come back to this record, by and by (make a note). I don’t know if I can afford to buy it, as it looks like it was quite a production—the extra thick cover has imagery that is both flat back and glossy black. Also, color, including someone I would naturally presume is Neko Case, with a cartoon sword and no pants. There is also a lot of art, and some temporary tattoos, and an extra record that has a few songs on one side and some etched art on the other! (It won’t play music, the art won’t, so don’t even try.) The first “bonus” song is one I recognize—it’s “Madonna of the Wasps” by Robyn Hitchcock—a good song, and this is a nice version. Overall the record is solid and pleasant and thought-provoking—but that doesn’t sound like love to me. It’s hard to put my finger or, I just feel like once removed from the entire enterprise, like I’m a ghost trying to hear with ghost ears. I need more, I guess, when it comes down to it… but I’ll keep trying.

08
Mar
19

The Partridge Family – The Partridge Family Album

My copy of this record is trashed—I don’t think there is any chance of this being the actual copy I had when I was 10 years old—I’m pretty sure I bought this at a thrift store at some point—but my copy would probably be, if it still existed, this scratchy. This may be the first LP I ever bought—it was either this or a Tommy Roe LP. Before that, I did buy many 45s. I used to play my records on a “Show N Tell,” which was a kids’ toy record player—well, it worked—it looked like a little TV with a turntable on the top, and you played these slide shows with accompanying records. But I eventually used it as my hi-fi, and played my records on it—I don’t imagine the sound was great, and it probably had a stylus like a roofing nail. These things, and all memories of them, disappeared off the face of the Earth—but of course, I bet I could find one on either eBay or YouTube or both. It’s now nearly a week later and I’ve been doing little else but looking at Show N Tell videos on YouTube. Also, found my Niagara Falls motion lamp, vintage Hot Wheels, and a Major Matt Mason space station. I can probably find every odd and obscure thing I recall from my childhood on YouTube now, which is great, in a way, but you’ve got to limit yourself—like with angel food cake, coffee ice cream, Girl Scout cookies, potato chips, and purple drank.

This record always sounded great to me, even though you knew the band wasn’t a real band (it’s a TV show!) and it’s no doubt bubblegum, syrupy, and corny—but why is it so great? Little did I know (when I was 10) that the songs were written by some of the best pop songwriters of all time, and it was being performed by some of the best LA studio musicians of the era. “I Think I Love You” was the big hit—I think I had the 45, first. But then on this album, side two has two even better songs, “I’m On The Road” and “Somebody Wants To Love You”—both songs that give me goosebumps to this day. When I think about it now, this record, and the TV show every week, under the influence of my first heartbreaking crush, along with these songs and this music—no wonder I was scarred for life. The other odd thing—the memories that listening to this record beings back—is I remember finding out that David Cassidy was actually Shirley Jones’ step-son in real life, which confused me for some reason. I guess watching the show I got this weird feeling of an incestuous relationship between those two (or at least their characters)—which I couldn’t really put my finer on, or put into words. But when I think about it now—I guess with the variety of ages and genders of the kids in the family, much like the Brady Bunch, you were intended to maybe be infatuated with the one close to your age. But me, as a 10 year old, for some reason, had a huge crush on Shirley Jones. I wonder what that was all about.

30
Nov
18

Jefferson Airplane “Volunteers”

If you want to give some kid an introduction to 1969, this would be a good place to start. The album cover is modeled after an activist newspaper, and the foldout, insert lyric sheet is as well. There is that equal amount of humor, deadly seriousness, surrealism, practicality, insiderishness and outsiderishness in unequal but workable measures. The music, too, of course—that style of vocal harmony, everybody singing, and jamming, and pretty excessive lead guitar that is often impressive once you’re in the mood. If I have time later, I’m going to go back and read some of this stuff, but I’m nearing the end of my time here (as we all are). I am actually pretty unfamiliar with Jefferson Airplane—I know the names (if you came across them for the first time, you might think they were a law firm, or a deli), but not much about them. I probably have had more contact with the band through the movie Gimme Shelter (1970) than any other way. Oh, one really important thing is that this is one of the few records I know of that uses the inside album cover (it’s one of those that fold open) to good use: there is a giant (as big as the album cover, X2) photo of peanut butter and jelly on bread (it looks like crunchy PB and straw-or-raspberry jelly-or-jam, with a liberal amount of butter). So it’s an open-faced, PB&J—and then when you close the album cover back up, it makes a sandwich. Get it?

08
Jun
18

Sly & The Family Stone “Greatest Hits”

I don’t think I ever owned a copy of earlier Sly and the Family Stone records, but I had this 1970 greatest hits record, it feels like, all my life, and everyone had it, and you know all the songs—they were on the radio, they were on TV, and they’re still being played here and there enough that you might hear one on any day somewhere and it wouldn’t be a surprise. But if you put the vinyl record on your stereo and listen to it closely, like I’m doing, it actually sounds fresh, since the reality of the music is different from my memory—it’s actually rawer, more innovative, and generally more interesting than the version in my memory. Particularly the songs: “Everybody Is A Star,” “Life,” “You Can Make It If You Try,” “Stand!”—really, all of them. No matter how well you know them in your sleep, it’s amazing how much better they sound “in person” (just you and your hi-fi).

I remember this time in junior high or high school when Sly and the Family Stone were on some variety TV show the night before, and everyone was talking about it at school the next day. Imagine that! There was some kind of confusion when the band took the stage, because then, Sly, or all of them, left the stage, I think, before coming back and playing. I don’t know what was going on, and it might be possible to find a video of that now, and even people discussing it, but I remember that as a very unique, very real moment, that really separated itself from the usual, over-rehearsed bullshit. He seemed like he had a great sense of humor, was having lot of fun, and had great style. This record has a just terrible cover, you’ve seen it, but over time it’s become kind of a classic, I guess. But the back is better, just a huge picture of Sly with a red knit hat and the best teeth I’ve ever seen. And the album cover folds open (and there are some liner notes, which I don’t remember being there—pretty good, too) and there is a giant vertical picture of the band, kind of out of focus, grainy, weird perspective, and Sly with those great boots—really, one of the best band pictures ever.




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