KAR SIMONE - I WANT

Some records seem to come from another planet.

One of the purposes of this blog is to show why the recording industry just doesn't get it anymore. Everything pertaining to the business of making records has become so ridiculously expensive (studio time, promotion, paying off the right people) that having a shot in the music biz has become akin to hitting the lottery. This isn't 1963 anymore, when a group of guys could walk into a studio with their instruments (and a bottle of Night Train) and cut a couple of sides in an hour or two for next to nothing. When all you needed was something that sounded good, maybe different enough to sell. When a record company was willing to buy the master for 50 bucks and take a chance at the Top Ten. Today, the industry is completely different (except for the corruption, which was always there). Record companies are run by accountants, not music people. An accountant doesn't care how a record sounds; his job is to tally up the sales numbers. He doesn't care if it's a 70-minute CD of a guy vomiting - the more it sells, the more of a hit it is. I knew a guy who was a former accountant for CBS Records in New York in the 1980s whose sole purpose was to take the sales figures of artists signed to CBS Records who didn't sell squat (squat meaning less than 100,000 copies) and add them to Mariah Carey's sales totals to make her look better on the charts. Funny thing, Mariah had like eight straight #1 hits until she and Tommy Mottola got divorced, and how many has she had since? Hmmmm......

Remember the old Gordy Records slogan? "It's What's In The Grooves That Count". Now the opposite is true. Everything counts EXCEPT what's in the grooves. You need the right promotion team, the right management team, the right production team, the right stylists for your "look", the right corporate sponsor - notice I've mentioned everything except THE RIGHT SONG. Because that doesn't matter anymore. Pop records don't have real melodies and "hooks" anymore - now it's some guy rapping over a beat that he ripped off from some LP from the 1970s with a hundred or so guest vocalists (Don't believe me? Go buy a copy of Billboard and look at the charts - every artist will be "So-and-So Featuring MC So-and-So and The So-and-So Mob with Special Appearance by So-and-So and Sting"). I'm not against rap. I'm against BAD rap, like I'm against BAD rock or BAD folk or BAD Adult Contemporary. I mean, c'mon, the first time you heard Puff Daddy (or P. Diddy or Diddy or Piddly or whatever the hell that joker's calling himself these days) and his "remix" of The Police's "Every Breath You Take" called "I'll Be Missing You", didn't YOU think to yourself, "Wow, what a rip-off! Even I could do that!"? YES! Because you COULD do that! ANYBODY could do that! Why was this such a big record? Because Piddly had the right people behind him, and he knew how to play the game. P. Diddy is a great businessman. He's NOT a musician, or a producer, or a singer, or a rapper, or an artist, but a great businessman.

The simple truth is this: the music industry doesn't have the time, or patience, to put up with an artist who may make great music but won't sell in massive quantities. There's no such thing as artist development. If your first LP doesn't sell at least a million copies, you might as well go home. Because there's too much money at stake to screw around with an artist, because of the ridiculous expense of studio time, promotion, etc. Besides, if there's one thing record company heads HATE, it's a pesky artist who - GASP! - wants a say in the music they're making. So it's much easier to get someone who is willing to sound like whatever's popular and is a bit quirky and has their own "fashion sense" and their own "look" which will get people talking about the "artist" and therefore sell LOTS of CDs that are filled with garbage that a computerized drum machine can snore up (if this sounds like I'm talking about Lady Gaga's career, well, that's purely coincidental).

Which brings us to today's selection. I doubt Kar Simone knew anything about the music business or image cultivation or record promotion. He probably didn't know how to tie his shoes properly, at least judging by this record. Listen to "I Want" and dream about what today's music CEO's would think of it - they'd probably run in terror, or laugh poor Kar right out of the room - "We can't possibly release this, it's got the wrong title, it doesn't have the correct bpm for the clubs, we never heard of the producer, and, most of all, even though we pride ourselves as being pacesetters in the industry, it doesn't sound like Lady Gaga! Actually.....it doesn't even sound......uh......human.......can someone call security??"

That's why I love old records. I'm no nostalgia or "oldies" freak. It's just that the record industry was a lot more accessible in those days, and, as a result, a lot of people who had no business being in a recording studio got their chance to put their particular strangeness on tape. The best part was that there was almost always some weird little record company that was willing to put it out on wax.

Cleopatra Records was about as little (and weird) as you could get. Started by an accordion player named Tommy Falcone in 1963, this label/production company produced some of the strangest singles to ever come out of New York, such as "Hong Kong Baby" by The Tabbys (which, like "I Want", has to be heard to be believed) and "For Your Love" by The Reminiscents (on the surface, a doo-wop group doing the old Ed Townsend tune; turns out it was one guy overdubbing himself - badly). Falcone's wife posed for the logo, dressed in an old Halloween costume. Most of the label's production duties were handled by Tommy and his partner, Gino Viscione. The label stopped releasing singles in 1965, but the production company soldiered on for a few more years (producing such singles as "Local Town Drunk" by The Inmates on Columbia in 1966, and "Candy Andy" - the only "bubblegum" song about a child molester - by The Shoestring on 20th Century-Fox in 1968). Unfortunately, none of Falcone's ventures in the music business ever translated to big money, and he reportedly died at the tragically young age of 40 from a heart attack after coming off stage at an accordion concert (!!!).

Of all the 45s Cleopatra put out, none was stranger than "I Want" by Kar Simone. The first time I played it, I just stared at my turntable in shock. I said at the time that it sounded like Lou Christie meets Tiny Tim at a Greek wedding. I still think that's the best description of the sound that emanates from this disk. A few years ago I had the pleasure of corresponding with the daughter of Gino Viscione, who gave me a few interesting tidbits about Cleopatra Records, and she hit me with this wowser - the drummer on "I Want" is none other than BUDDY RICH. Yes, THAT Buddy Rich!!! Seems that the original drummer slated for the session didn't show up, and Buddy was recording in a nearby studio, so on his break he came over and did this session for extra pocket money! Today, two managers, three agents and a team of lawyers would need to "advise" Buddy before he could set foot in the studio.

So today's lesson is: sometimes keeping out the "riff-raff" can also keep out the creativity. Kar Simone had absolutely NO chance of having a hit record, but he tried anyway. Tommy Falcone had NO chance of ever selling this record to anyone, but he tried anyway. The very least you could say is that THESE FOLKS TOOK A CHANCE. Which is way more than can be said about the cowards that run the music industry today.

Kar Simone - I Want (Cleopatra 103) - 1965

MIKE BERRY with THE OUTLAWS - TRIBUTE TO BUDDY HOLLY

February 3, 1959. The Day The Music Died. At least according to Don McLean. I guess he forgot about the great records that came out after 1959. In any case, that was the morning that Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper boarded a plane after that night's concert in Clear Lake, Iowa, and never made it to their next destination (Moorhead, Minnesota).

This is not only the story of the great Buddy Holly, but of the business machinations (aka greed) that drove poor Buddy, Ritchie and Big onto that plane. It is also the story of how a country was so taken with the sound of the young man from Lubbock, Texas that it almost singlehandedly based its entire rock and roll music industry on him (and, of course, it wasn't the good old USA). There's also a creepy side of the story, which will also be told here.

We all know Buddy's story. Born in Lubbock, Texas on September 7, 1936, he and his group, The Crickets, became a sensation with their Brunswick single "That'll Be The Day" (which, by the way, was the first record played by Dick Clark on "American Bandstand" when the show went national). Hit after hit folllowed, not only under the Crickets' name, but also under Buddy Holly's own name (I've still never found an explanation of why or how this happened), but by mid-1958 The Crickets had broken up due to Buddy's desire to move to New York (and get away from producer Norman Petty). In early 1959 Buddy decided to go on tour with General Artists' Corporation's "Winter Dance Party" to make some extra money (since he and his new wife had a baby on the way). Unfortunately, after a concert at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa, Buddy chartered a plane so he wouldn't have to take the long, 435 mile bus ride to Moorhead, Minn. for the next date. The plane was originally for just Buddy and his group, but The Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens wanted in, so the members of Buddy's group gave up their seats (Ritchie Valens got the seat by winning a coin toss; The Big Bopper got his because he was nursing a head cold and, being a big guy, couldn't get comfortable in the bus seats). The plane crashed shortly after takeoff, and the rest is history.

Unfortunately, though, the story isn't that simple. Buddy's move to New York was precipitated by a falling out with Norman Petty. Petty was not only Buddy's producer, but also the Crickets' manager. Petty kept Buddy and the boys on a tight allowance, to say the least, while constantly promising that everyone would get their fair share "when things settled down". The excellent book "Remembering Buddy" by John Goldrosen and John Beecher (Omnibus Press, 1996) explains a lot of the details of the relationship between Petty and Buddy. On a more personal note, Buddy's new wife, Maria Elena Santiago, was Puerto Rican, and in Lubbock, Texas in 1958, a white man marrying a Puerto Rican just didn't happen. Additionally, Maria knew a LOT about the music business - her aunt was head of the Latin music division of Peer-Southern Music, one of the largest publishing companies in the US. In fact, Maria was working there as a receptionist when she met Buddy. Maria saw that Buddy wasn't exactly getting the greatest deal from Norman Petty, and encouraged Buddy to ask for an accounting. Petty (of course) got very insulted, and that played a major part in the Crickets' breakup.

Unfortunately, the tussle with Petty left Buddy Holly in a very bad position - a lot of his royalties were being held up, and by December, 1958, the move to New York, Buddy's dwindling stature in the industry (his latest records weren't the huge hits his earlier ones had been), and his now-pregnant wife all contributed to the decision to go on that last, fateful tour in early 1959. He needed the money. He shouldn't have had to do the tour, but he did.

Things got worse from there. The organization of the tour was, to say the least, lacking in professionalism. General Artists Corporation's Irving Feld was a greedy bastard (aren't all promoters?) who wanted to maximize his profit margin, so he sent Buddy, Ritchie Valens, The Big Bopper, Dion and The Belmonts, and Frankie Sardo on a grueling 24-city tour - for three weeks. That's eight cities a week. Today most groups tour 24 cities in three months. Feld also compounded the tour's problems by providing the transportation - an old, rickety bus with an intermittently working heater. In the North Midwest. In January. Shame on you, Irving Feld. Needless to say, the haphazard schedule and the constantly-breaking-down bus took its toll - by the second week, the performers' clothes were desperately in need of a cleaning, the Big Bopper had gotten sick, and nothing could be done about it because there was no time before the shows to GET anything done. Buddy Holly was a take-charge type of guy. He knew this couldn't go on. So he chartered a private plane to get him to the next city earlier than the bus would have gotten him there - not because he was THE STAR, but because he wanted time to get some desperately needed sleep, to get some laundry done, and to take care of other tour business that Irving Feld couldn't possibly care less about.

And three stars ended up dead.

The news hit the American public like a ton of bricks. But, like most American news, it was quickly forgotten about. A new crop of teen idols soon popped up, most of them named Bobby (in fact, one of them, Bobby Vee, got his start by playing at the concert in Moorhead on February 4, 1959), and Buddy Holly was quickly forgotten, for the most part, in the USA. His record label, Coral, continued to release singles, but they all died a quick death. Buddy Holly was a has-been in the USA.

In Great Britain, however, it was a different story. Holly actually charted more singles in England after his death than before the plane crash. British singers such as Brian Poole and Freddie Garrity began to model their stage appearance on Holly's, complete with glasses. Adam Faith was one of many Holly sound-alikes to hit the British charts. A young group named themselves The Beatles in honor of The Crickets. Another group named themselves The Hollies. Buddy Holly fan clubs in Britain numbered in the hundreds. He became as well-known across the pond as Elvis was in America!

Now, the creepy part. Shortly after Holly's death, a record producer started his own studio and label at his flat in London. His name was Joe Meek. Meek became a sought-after producer during the mid-60s because of his otherworldly production style; his biggest hits include "Have I The Right" by The Honeycombs and "Telstar" by The Tornadoes. Meek was a genius; he was also a loony. He had an unhealthy obsession with Buddy Holly, telling friends that Buddy spoke to him from beyond the grave. When Meek's business partner, Geoff Goddard, wrote a song called "Tribute To Buddy Holly", Meek recorded it with a singer he knew, Mike Berry, and released it in England in November, 1961. It became a sizeable hit, and Meek was on his way. But Meek's obsession continued on, and on the 8th anniversary of Buddy Holly's death - February 3, 1967 - Meek celebrated by killing his landlady with a shotgun and then blowing his own brains out. Makes Phil Spector seem like a dream date, doesn't he?

So, to conclude, a year and a half (December, 1962, to be exact) after "Tribute To Buddy Holly" became a hit in England, the folks at US Coral woke up and decided to release the record in the US. It flopped, of course, but it stands as a fascinating monument to a fascinating performer....and a REALLY weird producer.

Mike Berry - Tribute To Buddy Holly (Coral 62341) - 1962

CHARLIE LOUVIN - I DON'T WANT IT

 

January 26, 2011 was a very bad day for good music. We lost two great, but vastly underrated singers - Gladys Horton and Charlie Louvin. Gladys, of course, was one of the two lead singers of the Marvelettes, along with Wanda Young, but Gladys was the lead on all the early hits, including Motown's first-ever #1 national hit, "Please Mr. Postman". Gladys' importance to the story of Motown Records can not be overstated, and yet, here in 2011, her passing is listed by the media as nothing more than a footnote.


Charlie Louvin wasn't even that lucky. If you ask ten out of ten people (outside of the south) who Charlie Louvin was, you'll be answered with a blank stare. That's a shame, because Charlie Louvin had an amazing career in the field of country music.

I was first introduced to Charlie Louvin by my father's collection of old reel-to-reel tapes. My favorite toy when I was a kid was my dad's JVC reel-to-reel tape player. I would play his old tapes and marvel at the unknown songs (Dad never listed anything on the tape boxes) that would come out of the speakers. Eventually, as my musical knowledge increased, I began to recognize a lot of the rock and roll songs my dad recorded off of friends' records and off of AM radio. But there was one tape which had about half an hour of C&W sides recorded off of radio station KXCN ("serving St. Louis and Festus") in 1966. Since my dad was doing his tour of duty in Vietnam that year, I couldn't figure out how he recorded this. One day I asked him, and he said his best friend Bobby recorded this when he himself was stationed in St. Louis during the war.

There was incredible stuff in that half-hour: Connie Smith's "The Hurtin's All Over", Porter Wagoner's version of "Ole Slew-Foot", "I Hear Little Rock Calling" by Ferlin Husky, "Send Me A Box Of Kleenex" by Lamar Morris - and "The Proof Is In The Kissing" by Charlie Louvin.

Since I knew NOTHING about country music at the time, and, as usual, nothing was listed on the tape box, it took me many, many years to track down those records (in fact, there's still one on that tape I haven't found, because I don't know the title or the artist to this day). But when I did, I developed a taste for 50s and 60s C&W that only gets stronger as the years go by (it also helps that I have a girlfriend who is a country music junkie).

Anyway, here's a little history: Charlie Louvin (real name: Charles Elzer Loudermilk) was born on July 7, 1927, in Rainesville, Alabama. He and his brother Ira grew up in nearby Henegar, AL. Ira played mandolin and Charlie played guitar, patterning themselves after such "brother" acts as The Blue Sky Boys and The Monroes. In 1943 the brothers (after a stint with the Foggy Mountain Boys) won an amateur contest in Chattanooga, Tennessee, the prize being their own morning radio show. Eventually their radio program would move to Knoxville, Tennessee's WNOX, where they became featured artists on the station's most popular program, "Midday Merry-Go-Round". All this exposure led to a contract with MGM Records in 1949, but their recording career came to a halt when Charlie got drafted and went to fight in Korea. After Charlie returned, their good friend Fred Rose (of Acuff-Rose publishing fame) convinced them to sign with Capitol, since MGM was putting all of its promotional energies toward Hank Williams.

The move to Capitol was a good one, and by 1955 the Louvin Brothers were major country stars, and in 1955-1956 they had five Top Ten country hits - "When I Stop Dreaming", "Hoping That You're Hoping", "You're Running Wild", "Cash On The Barrel Head", and their only #1 country hit "I Don't Believe You've Met My Baby". They joined the Grand Ole Opry and soon became (strangely for the era) hot LP artists, releasing about 20 LPs between 1956 and 1962. Half of the LPs were of sacred songs, including the LP "Satan Is Real", which has become their most (in)famous LP because of the unintentionally hilarious cover. See it here.

Unfortunately for the Louvins, the word "production" began to creep into Nashville by the early 60s, and soon the pure backwoods sound of country was being "softened" for public consumption. Fiddles became violins, and Ira Louvin's mandolin was replaced by Chet Atkins' guitar. The pressures of "new Nashville" began to take its toll on the brothers, both professionally and personally (their relationship was always, to say the least, a bit shaky, especially since it was well-known that Ira could be a helluva mean drunk - and he was usually in the bag), and in 1963 they split up. Each brother started a solo career, and by mid-1964 Charlie had a Top Ten country hit with "I Don't Love You Anymore". Between 1964 and 1982, Charlie Louvin charted 29 times on the C&W charts (though he only had one other Top Ten hit, with "See The Big Man Cry" in 1965).

Ira didn't fare as well. Shortly after the brothers broke up, Ira was shot in an alcohol-soaked argument with his third wife, Faye. Shortly after his recovery (and a divorce from Faye), he married the girl singer in his show, Anne Young. On June 20, 1965, Ira and Anne were in the middle of a week-long series of concerts in Kansas City, Missouri when they were both killed in a car crash in nearby Williamsburg (though some sources list the location as Jefferson City, MO). It was only then that Ira had a country chart hit, with "Yodel, Sweet Molly".

Today's selection is one of Charlie's most rockin' sides. It was released as the B-side of Charlie's version of Roger Miller's "Less And Less" in November 1964. It's a really bluesy, "forget you, girl" number that has a strange (but cool) echoey riff on the bass and great drums. I hope you enjoy this and become inspired to hunt down other great Charlie/Louvin Bros. records.

Also, thanks, Dad, for letting me play with those reel-to-reels.

Charlie Louvin - I Don't Want It (Capitol 5296) - 1964

RICHARD ANTHONY and THE BLUE NOTES - THE BOSTON MONKEY

D A N C E ! ! !

On the last Sunday of every month, my radio show "On The Record" turns into the "Classic Soul Blowout", where I spin nothing but soul and R&B records from the 60s and 70s. Soul records have been the lifeblood of my existence ever since I was a kid. I started collecting records when I was a baby (literally - my parents would throw old 45 rpm records in my crib to get me to stop crying!! Somewhere in my photos I actually have a picture of me in my crib with a few 45s.....if I find it I'll post it) and quickly decided that the record collector life was for me. I was a weird kid. Anyhoo, doo-wop was the name of the game where I grew up (Newark, NJ), so as soon as I had the wherewithal (and the pocket money) I went searching for old original doo-wop 45s.

It didn't happen. They were just too damn expensive. I saw old guys (old to me, anyway) paying sums of three, four hundred dollars for ONE 45. That was alien to me. I thought old 45s were supposed to be had for a quarter or fifty cents, like at the garage sales I went to. To this day, I still think that way - there isn't a record IN THE WORLD worth three or four hundred dollars to me. The MOST I have ever paid for a record was $225.00, and that was for an original copy of the "That'll Be The Day" LP by Buddy Holly - mint minus, original flat black label. I kept it for 10 years and sold it to a guy in Finland for $250.00.

I quickly realized I was not going to be a doo-wop collector for several reasons; a) too expensive; b) as much as I love it, doo-wop is formula music - after a while, it all starts to sound similar; and c) I can't STAND doo-wop record collectors - they listen to NOTHING but group harmony records (they HATE the term "doo-wop"), think that The Beatles ruined all music, and they all try to one-up novice collectors by saying things like, "You ever heard-a dis rekkid? You NEVER heard-a dis rekkid! Dey pressed FOUR copies-a dis rekkid in a garage in 1955, an' I got one! I paid FIVE THOUSAND dollars for dis rekkid! My wife divorced me 'cause I spent the kids' college fund on dis rekkid, BUT I GOT DIS REKKID! Your copy is a repro! I got the original!". The saddest part is that these collectors have priced doo-wop records out of the range of most collectors' pockets, so nobody WANTS original doo-wop 45s anymore. Even sadder is the fact that, as the years go by, the big-time doo-wop collectors are dropping dead from old age, and their children will sell their collections for pennies on the dollar (probably to pay for that college education they never received).

Back to when I was a lad: when I'd ask the record man if he had any OTHER 45s, he'd point me to a box and say with disdain, "well, we have these other 45s - soul, surf and (gag) GARAGE rock (gag)". So I bought those. For a quarter, 50 cents, sometimes a dollar. In my mind, if I went out to buy records with $100 in my pocket, I'd CERTAINLY rather come home with 100 or 200 soul, blues, surf and garage 45s than ONE or TWO doo-wop 45s.

But I digress. My fascination with soul music started at an early age, when a neighbor gave me a copy of "The Best Of Sam Cooke" on RCA Victor. Not a bad place to start! In those early years, I collected what they call "sweet soul" - slow to mid-tempo tunes, heavy on the group harmony.  But as the years went by, I began to get into soul records with a beat - not necessarily "Northern Soul" which I think is one of the most OVERRATED forms of music - and began going to clubs whose DJs played these records.

That's how I learned about "The Boston Monkey" - my good friend Phast Phreddie Patterson turned me on to this (and a host of other cool records). Richard Anthony and The Blue Notes were, apparently, a Philadelphia group, hooking up with producer Frank Virtue (most famous for "Guitar Boogie Shuffle" with his group, The Virtues) and making records for Virtue's Fayette and Virtue labels. Then, in late 1965, the new dance craze came along - The Boston Monkey. How the Boston Monkey differed from the Monkey is beyond me, but by early 1966 there were records about it by Billy Butler, Alvin Cash, Les Cooper and The Soul Rockers, The Manhattans, and The Hustlers. But Richard Anthony and The Blue Notes top them all. It's a killer production by Billy Jackson and Jimmy "Wiz" Wizner (who did a lot of work for other Philly groups like The Tymes and The Dovells) and has a killer riff that runs through the whole song (same one as The Temptations' "Get Ready"). It was released in April, 1966, and died on the vine (Swan Records was on its last legs as a label, closing up shop in early 1967). Well worth the hunt, especially if you want to kick-start a 1960s soul party.

Promo copies of this record have a blank B-side. Both myself and Phast Phreddie are searching for a stock copy which actually has the B-side, called "No Good". Anybody got one?

Anyway, tune in to my "Classic Soul Blowout" show on WFDU-FM, 89.1 on your dial if you're in the NYC area, or at www.wfdu.fm on the internet! I'll even let doo-wop collectors take a listen!

Richard Anthony and The Blue Notes - The Boston Monkey (Swan 4257) - 1966

THE VERSATONES - BILA

Be forewarned. You may never be able to get this record out of your head. Be forewarned.

"Bila" by The Versatones ranks right up there with "Shombalor" and "Rubber Biscuit" as the best examples of nonsense syllable doo-wop. But while "Shombalor" and "Rubber Biscuit" have some sort of melody, and are fun to attempt to sing along with, this record sounds atonal and THREATENING, as if the group will jump out of the record and dance around your house like a bunch of crazy people. In fact, if you dropped a microphone into a mental ward, the result would probably sound a lot like this record. There is NO information about this group, either on the internet or in the dozens of books about rock and roll history in my personal library. Apparently this group only made this ONE 45, and disappeared from view (by the way, these are NOT the same Versatones who recorded for RCA in 1956-57). Even though it was re-released several times, the record never hit the national charts.

Yet, over the years, it has become a well-remembered track for record collectors, especially in the New York and Philadelphia areas. The record is insane, the recording itself is the lowest of lo-fi; heck, it wasn't even the A-side of the record. What's the story here?

Apparently, this was a New York group, because they came to the attention of novelty record king Dickie Goodman, who was based in New York, sometime in late 1957. Dickie was in the midst of a falling out with the distributor of his record label, Luniverse Records, so he decided to go independent, forming the All Star Record Corporation, which would distribute the final Buchanan and Goodman single on Luniverse, "The Flying Saucer Goes West". Before the "Flying Saucer" craze, Goodman was actually a Tin Pan Alley songwriter, and had written a song called "Tight Skirt And Sweater" for the Versatones to record as the first release on the All Star label. They needed a flip side, and the group had their own song (written by the mysterious "C. Worrell - S. Tindall") called "Bila", so Dickie had them knock it out in one take and he put out the 45 in March or April 1958. "Tight Skirt", the A-side, began receiving airplay almost immediately (it didn't hurt that Alan Freed was a close friend of Dickie's) but soon there were problems - the record was banned by many stations for "obscenity" (probably because of the "leering" way they sang about the girl in the tight skirt and sweater - that's the only reason I can figure) and soon died a quick death, along with All Star Records.

Let's fast forward a couple of years, to 1960. The New York subway tunnel below Times Square at Broadway and 42nd Street had a tiny record shop located in it, called Times Square Records. The proprietor was a cadaverous old man named Irving "Slim" Rose. You can read the history of his store here. Anyway, Slim sold obscure doo-wop 45s, many of which became big-time collectors' items after Slim had them played on Allan Fredericks' "Night Train" program (which was sponsored by Times Square Records, naturally). Slim loved weird group sounds, and had an old copy of "Tight Skirt", but LOVED the flip, "Bila". Fredericks started playing it on his radio show, and Slim soon sold out of his stock of old All Star copies. Luckily for Slim, at that time (March 1960) Fenway Records in Pittsburgh reissued the track (because it was a Top Ten hit in that city, thanks to radio station KQV), and "Bila", now promoted to the A-side, sold respectably in the New York area, mainly out of Slim's store.

We fast forward again, to 1963 Philadelphia. Jerry Blavat, the legendary "Geator With The Heater" on WCAM radio, finds a copy of "Bila" and starts thrashing it on HIS show, creating a HUGE demand for the track in Philly (Blavat did this a lot - in 1964 he started playing a record called "God Only Knows" by The Capris and created another big demand, even though the record was originally released in 1954!!). Atlantic Records somehow heard about this, and re-released "Bila" in December, 1963. Once again, the record flopped nationally, but it kept selling in Philadelphia! So Jerry Greene, proprietor of the Record Museum store in Philly (and former right-hand man to Slim Rose until Slim, in his usual stingy way, decided that Jerry wasn't worth the nominal raise he asked for) leased the track from Atlantic and issued it on his Lost Nite label, where it sold many, many copies throughout the 1960s.

To this day, "Bila" remains a Philadelphia favorite. Jerry Blavat still dusts it off every once in a while when he makes personal appearances. Every time I play it on my radio show, someone always calls and says "I can't BELIEVE you played that!"

I still don't know what this song means, and I don't think anyone ever will. Except C. Worrell and S. Tindall. Maybe.

The Versatones - Bila (All Star 501) - 1958

BOBBI and THE BEAUS - MELVIN

From the sublime to the ridiculous.

I seriously want to thank those of you who have viewed the last couple of posts and left encouraging comments. I really appreciate it! People have been saying how great it is to find all this great heretofore unknown music. Well, it's not just about great music with me. Sometimes I buy records based on.....well.....the fact that they're terrible, or just plain strange. Records that make me think, "how the heck did THIS get released?", or, "did they really expect this to get airplay?". This is one of them - "Melvin" by Bobbi and The Beaus.

I'll be the first to admit I don't know anything about this record. I bought it for two reasons - I collect anything on the Unart label (sort of an offshoot label of the newly-formed [1958] United Artists Records; the label only lasted until late 1959, so I'm trying to get every release on the label), and both sides of this 45 were written by Jerry Goldstein and Bob Feldman, who would later team up with Richard Gottehrer and form FGG Productions, which created great records by The Angels ("My Boyfriend's Back"), The McCoys ("Hang On Sloopy") and their own group, The Strangeloves ("I Want Candy"). Goldstein would later work with the group War, creating Far Out Productions to lease their recordings to United Artists.

Pretty hip producers, eh? Well, this record goes to show that everybody has to start somewhere, and everyone needs a place to be bad. This record is, well, strange. It's about a kid named Melvin who is constantly bossed around by his shrewish mother - she's always on his case to do his homework, take a bath, do his chores, and give her the money he earns from his part-time job. The best part is when Melvin screams out in frustration, "that woman gets me SO EXCITED!!!!" Kinda weird to say that about your mother, but we'll let it go. Finally, Melvin calls his dad to get involved when Mom picks up a shoe to beat Melvin. Poor Dad ends up getting bashed in the head for his troubles, and the record ends. Seriously, that's it. Dr. Phil would have a field day with this family.

I'll bet that Feldman and Goldstein are The Beaus, but I've never been able to identify the female voice (Bobbi) on this record. I'll bet just as much that Feldman and Goldstein left this record off their individual resumes. Still, this is an "historical" document in recorded sound. At least I think, anyway.

Bobbi and The Beaus - Melvin (Unart 2009) - 1959

THE MC5 - KICK OUT THE JAMS (1968 promo version)

The MC5. I can't say anything that hasn't already been said about this group, except for the fact that I'm NOT the biggest fan of this band. Well actually, I don't mind the band so much as I don't understand people who INSIST that the MC5 were the - tah dah! - GREATEST ROCK BAND OF ALL TIME!!!!!!! Really? Better than those Beatle guys? More "revolutionary" than that dude named Elvis (at least in the first few years of his career)? I'm sorry, I'm not gonna do a Dave Marsh here and justify everything this group did by blah blah blah-ing about the "cultural revolution" and the strikeback against the "troubled times" just so I can look like I'm a cool dude who REALLY knows what "high-energy Motor City rock and roll" is all about. I'm not from Detroit. I'm from Newark, NJ. I can't hear the sound of thousands of folks working the assembly line and not being one damn bit happy about it. I don't care about the inner-city insurrection that caused sounds like this to happen. I can only hear the MC5 as a group who made RECORDS, and if I need a history lesson from Marsh or Lester Bangs or whomever to get the "full effect" of the MC5, then I'd rather just leave their records alone. In other words, the reason I don't "get" the MC5 is probably the same reason why people from Detroit probably don't "get" old streetcorner doo-wop records - they weren't here in NY/NJ when the music was being formed, and they don't know the particular brand of economic (and/or racial and social) depression that sent these kids out into the streets to fend for themselves and form singing groups to pass the time and avoid the old ennui. But I DON'T expect everyone in the whole country to bow down to doo-wop music like they do here in the NY/NJ area. But it seems like the original crop of Detroit-based "rock journalists" have been shoving the MC5 down our collective throats for what seems like a million years, which is probably why I resist this group so much. Well, that and the fact that I don't believe rock and roll and politics make for a good mix, and these guys were as much about politics as they were about music - and like all politicians, the MC5 were masters of FRAUD.

Wow, Rich. Fraud? That's a pretty strong word. Well, I wouldn't say it if this 45 didn't exist to back it up. This is the ORIGINAL version of "Kick Out The Jams", which was only available as a giveaway promo 45 at the group's free Fillmore East concert in New York in 1968 - about 6 months before the group's LP of the same name was released - and, as you can hear, lead singer Rob Tyner sings "KICK OUT THE JAMS, BROTHERS AND SISTERS!" instead of the usual "KICK OUT THE JAMS, MOTHERFUCKERS!". Now, this begs the question - if this was a GIVEAWAY 45 that was never actually released to record stores, and only available at a concert given at the Fillmore East (whose patrons had certainly heard the word "motherfucker" at least ONCE in their lives), then why did the group record this "brothers and sisters" intro at all? Especially if the group was supposed to be sooooooo revolutionary? Even the LABEL COPY says "Preview Pressing For Brothers And Sisters of The MC5". Did the group's "manager" John Sinclair (another drug-addled hippie disguised as "political activist") take the day off at that point?

Here's my theory: the MC5 wanted to get well-known in the NYC area, so they pressed this 45 and gave it away at the concert, hoping someone would bring it to the attention of someone in NYC radio and it would get airplay. Not a bad idea at all, but it didn't work. The music was too far ahead of what was happening in late '68. So when it came time for the LP to be released, the group, dopey John Sinclair, and Elektra decided to include a different recording of "Kick Out The Jams" with the X-rated intro, KNOWING that there would be problems (and LOADS of publicity, however bad). Then, when the pressure got too high, Elektra would splice off the original intro and put the "brothers and sisters" intro back in, and THEN release it as a single. Here's where the fraud comes in: forever afterwards, the group (and Sinclair) would claim that the X-rated intro was spliced off WITHOUT THEIR KNOWLEDGE, and that the "MF" intro was the way they wanted it all along. Oh, really? Like 1969 radio was going to play the word "motherfuckers" on the air?? Like Elektra was gonna sell ANY copies of the LP outside of Detroit with NO radio play?? Like you didn't record the "brothers and sisters" intro 6 months before to get the record on the radio in the FIRST place??? COME ON!

Don't get me wrong - I'm sure that Rob Tyner screamed the "MF" intro at every concert he and the Five ever did, but PLEASE, all you moronic rock critics, don't insult my intelligence by claiming that these guys were some kind of revolutionaries by putting the word on their first LP, because this pre-LP single proves the lie. They were just another group that wanted to get on the radio, and when they couldn't, their mush-brained manager decided to use the tool of every dumb-ass politician wannabe (not to mention every dumb-ass politician) who wasn't smart enough to come up with a new idea - HYPE.

That being said, this is one awesome 45. It is so much better than the released commercial version (Elektra 45648, as opposed to this one, which was denoted Elektra MC5-1, for all you record geeks) because it has even MORE energy, more ferocious vocals from Tyner, it's got a better mix, and it's slightly faster! Fred "Sonic" Smith's guitar riff (and crazed solo) will stick in your head forever, if you have any sense of what great rock and roll is AT ALL. Any MC5 fan can tell me this is one of the greatest rock and roll records ever made, and I'd agree completely. But if that same fan needs to tell me WHY they were so great, I'm walking away.

The MC5 - Kick Out The Jams (Elektra MC5-1) - 1968