Bobby Radcliff “Early in the Morning”

I picked up this record in 1985 (the year it came out) when I lived in New York and worked with Bobby Radcliff at the Strand Bookstore—he was (or seemed like) kind of an old-timer there—one of the people who seemed utterly comfortable coming and going, getting his work done without seeming like a person at work. It was one of the more interesting jobs I’ve ever had—mostly because it was the job with the most interesting co-workers, and he was one of them. A really funny, unique guy. You wouldn’t guess he was a singer and excellent blues guitarist, but that came to light—maybe at the time record came out. I honestly can’t remember now if I bought the record from him, or he gave it to me, or I bought it at a store—and I can’t remember if I went to see him live. I’m thinking I must have. But I did drink a little bit, back then. Actually, I drank a lot—and New York in 1985 made me double that. But I guess I was the right age for it.

For some reason, I don’t listen to blues music that much, or as much as I did at one time. It’s not that I don’t like blues—but I guess there’s some I’m not crazy about—well, there’s probably a lot I’m not crazy about, which is why I avoid it. Even so, one of the best live shows I ever saw was Junior Kimbrough (in a tent, in Iowa). And one of my very favorite records ever is Magic Sam’s “Give Me Time” (it’s not out on vinyl, I don’t think, or I’d be trying to get a copy). Maybe part of my ambivalence is because whenever I pick up a guitar I go naturally toward blues, and not real inspired versions of it (it’s my own laziness to blame, not the blues). Anyway, I’m happy that this record sounds great to me, now. I was separated with it for a while (in all my moving around—my brother had it for a while). Yet here it is, back on my shelf—in good shape, just a wine stain on one corner. One thing I like about this record is that it’s got a clean sound and unadorned production—the vocals are right out front—and Bobby Radcliff’s guitar playing is excellent—but also understated (a good quality for blues music). Also, very clean, no effects—right there, it sounds like it’s in the room. Good song selection, too. It starts out with one called “Uh!” that I really like. And there’s a couple of Magic Sam songs—who, I guess, he knew, as a kind of mentor.

Scritti Politti “Cupid & Psyche 85”

I remember this band from the Eighties—it’s likely that when I worked in the record store (Kent, Ohio, 1983), one or two of their early singles came through—we used to get import orders of UK stuff—a huge variety. We’d sample everything, sometimes not for more than a few minutes—and something like this wouldn’t make it very long. We’d say, “Another one of THOSE bands.” Meaning in this case, synth pop, with an emphasis on JAUNTY. I’ve since become a lot more accepting of a much wider variety of music, particularly pop music—whereas, if I find something catchy, I find it catchy. There seems to be some R&B and funk influences here—at least on some songs—that win me over a bit. Apparently, the band is still out there, playing, possibly at a venue near you—perhaps with very few original members. I’m not delving into the lyrics this time around, no lyric sheet, and I’m tired. This is, I guess, their second and most successful LP. I used to live with a black cat named Psyche, so I’ll always like that name. Cupid, however, is a mixed bag. 1985 is the year I first moved to NYC, so that’s a memorable year for me, but I don’t have much fondness for most of the music coming out of that decade. I scoured the internet tirelessly to find out something about the album art—it’s credited to “Art-O-Matic”—could that be a distant cousin to the MAMA art movement’s Art-O-Fuck? On the back cover, there’s what looks like a loaf of bread wrapped in white cloth that has three gold stars pinned to it. A butterfly has landed on it, as well. Somebody knows what this means. The front cover has a couple of round ink stamps that might almost say “Scritti Politti”—but the funny thing is, as this album was kicking around my “on deck” area, I kept thinking they were clocks. Why two? I thought. And if you live in Milwaukee, like I do, you can’t but help think of the George Webb restaurants who famously display two clocks. The story goes, at one time it was illegal for a place to be open 24 hours, so this “we never close” establishment set one clock a minute apart from the other, so they could officially close one minute a day. Yes, that sounds like bullshit to me, but then so are their hash-browns.

Willie Nelson “Half Nelson”

The intersection of artists who are immensely popular and artists I like is astoundingly small, but that’s where Willie Nelson lies, along with a few filmmakers and few other country singers. I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m just being halfway honest. Ever since I first heard Willie Nelson sing I’ve been trying to figure out what makes his voice sound like it does. The only answer I’ve come up with is: because it’s Willie Nelson’s voice. Even though some of this stuff is previously released, you figure duets with 10 of popular music’s biggest stars should be an automatic home-run—but alas, it’s merely a “half nelson” (a wrestling move that, if you use it in a baseball game, you’ll be ejected from the game and heavily fined). That’s because, besides 10 duet-ists, there’s also a wide variety of arrangements and producers—some aren’t half bad, but some are half-assed. And this came out in 1985, a dismal year for the “hot sounds.” Willie would have been around 20 when Hank Williams died, so technically their duet here could have been recorded in the early-Fifties, but I suspect another method was used: séance. It sounds like Hank, even from the grave. What’s kind of funny is how Ray Charles sounds so much like Ray Charles, and Willie and Leon Russell doing a Rolling Stones song sounds just like a Leon Russell song. My favorite is “Half a Man,” with George Jones (sounds like George Jones, and Willie!) in keeping with the theme—and a nice song. One of my favorite product names is “half & half”—incidentally, and my brother and I started a conceptual band called “Half”—not because we’re each in a different city, but because there’s music, alright, but no real band. The hideous album cover looks like it took a half-hour from conception to print-ready—ugly, too—it would cause me psychic harm to even describe it. I’ve got to get some better Willie Nelson records—I really do like him, and he’s put out maybe thousands, I don’t know. I wonder if there are other funny play-on-words titles—no doubt. Though I believe “Full Nelson” is a Willie Nelson tribute band—you have to wonder if they “antiqued” their guitars, and just how much the singer sounds like Willie—kind of doesn’t seem possible.

Mickey Newbury “Sweet Memories”

This is a 1985 LP put out by MCA Records of “previously released material”—there’s nothing wrong with that if the songs are good—but the presentation, the album cover, doesn’t feel like an artist’s album, but a record company product, which, again is okay, but I’m more interested in the LP as an art form that’s a direct extension of the artist from a certain time and place. This would be the ideal thing to find on cassette at a truck-stop during a nonstop cross country road-trip in a vintage automobile. This would be your 3am ’til dawn music. The back contains some concise liner notes written by Wesley H. Rose, president of Acuff-Rose Publications, and he calls Mickey Newbury one of the great songwriters of our time. You might not have heard of him, but if you were a Nashville old-timer, you certainly would have. I wonder what’s going to happen to Nashville. I’ve heard, repeatedly, lately, about how the population there is exploding. For whatever reason, it’s the place to move to. Which means, of course, that the people who are getting there now, or soon, are going to have a hard time finding a place to live, finding a job, making ends meet. I suppose many of those moving there are songwriters, trying to break into the songwriting, singing, playing, recording music business. Most won’t make it. Some will stay and work at the new microbrewery, or a call center, and some will go back to the town they came from, and some will try the next place. I wonder where the next place is, or going to be?

Anyway, this is a fine listening record, and maybe a good record to study a well-crafted Nashville style song, but I’m not going to focus on the songs right now because many of them are on other Mickey Newbury records I have and will write about later. This has the feeling of a post-career record (not the case) with a 7 inch single size portrait of him on the cover (with his great smile and hair) surrounded by an expanse of oppressive green background (a shade of green I’d call “basement rec-room”). I first heard Mickey Newbury just a few years ago during a WKCR NY radio country music marathon, and in particular, this one song (can’t remember what now) that struck me as being the kind of song I’d like to write. So then I got kind of obsessed, not recalling ever seeing his records—started looking for them and found them affordable, and before you know it, I have six of his LPs (from 1973 to 1979) plus this one. I’ll get around to writing about those records when they come up on my random review system. Let this be my introduction to Mickey Newbury and promise of more to come. In a quick perusal of his internet biography (which you never want to take as gospel) it sounds like he had great success as a songwriter at a relatively early age, but didn’t record until his late twenties (what some would consider “late”), but then put out a lot of records, until he suffered with health issues and died far too young. You can find quotes of the utmost respect for him by some great musicians and songwriters. I’ll look forward to really listening in depth to some of his records, here, in the near future.

James McCandless “Faultline”

Again with the goofy fonts; I thought it said “Asscandles”—but closer examination clarifies: James McCandless, someone I’ve not heard of before now. This record is from 1985, which to me seems like yesterday, and I have to keep reminding myself it’s over 30 years ago. Also, magic-markered on the front and back cover are the letters, WNKU, which sounds like a radio station to me, and research reveals it’s on the Kentucky/Cincinnati border. Somehow this record escaped.

Further research turns up a James McCandless website. Apparently he died in 2013, nearing the age of 70. He lived most of his life in the Chicago area, playing all over the place, folk music, and this is his first record, on his own label, St. Christopher. There’s a lyric sheet, which is nice, because the lyrics are worth checking out, even though you probably can understand them as his voice is clear as a bell. This is the good kind of folk music; it’s plenty serious but doesn’t take itself too seriously. Songs are funny and they are grim. Some just voice and acoustic guitar, and some with a full band and some fine musicians.

I could go on and on but I’m trying to keep things short, and many of you will see the word “folk music” and go no further. You’re making a mistake. But go to your grave close-minded if you want to, there’s plenty of eternity to come around to things. Anyway, I personally cannot resit a verse like this: “Last night after work we all went to a restaurant / I ordered my usual BLT and fries / and while I was hunched over my friend Jerry put on his sunglasses / he said the glare off my skull was hurting his eyes.” It’s from a song called “Kareem and Me” about Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and going bald.