To promote and celebrate the upcoming second annual Record Store Day, Little E and I have bought at least one vinyl 45 or LP from every record store we could find in Portland, Oregon. Yes, my six-months-old son has a favorite: downtown's 2nd Avenue Records, I think because of all the heavy metal and hard rock t-shirts hanging from the ceiling. (See the severed head? Can you say Slayer?) But each and every establishment is worth your visit. I've had a bad time in none. To encourage you to tour your own town's bins, I've shared some of E and I's good times below. By the by, if you're in Portland -- even if temporarily like us -- I don't think you know how good you've got it. Seriously. Go to these joints. Drop a buck or two. Because wouldn't it be cool if my baby boy could go to record stores when he's older? Look at him. Do you really want to tell him no? Yeah, I didn't think so. Now go. And tell em Little E sent ya. • (Photo by Grandpa Charlie)
Note: We didn't listen to any of the records before we bought them. Most stores allow it; we just found it more fun and fair not to. Yes, we know that Record Store Day does not refer only to literal record shops, but there's a turntable in the place we're renting and no ignoring it really. Plus, unlike CDs, records can still be played on hand-cranked devices when the world runs out of electricity. Just saying. Record Store Day is April 18th, by the by. That night, Portland's Night Owl Record Show, billed as the nation's first night time record show, takes place at Eagles Aerie. I had to look up the word aerie. It means a stronghold perched on a cliff or high place. Crate digging at night sure seems like a good time to be high to me.
Side A (MP3)
from Holiday in Oregon
Found for four bucks at Rad Summer (vinyl). I don't think I could've found a better intro for this post. Did you know Bing Crosby and Mel Blanc were from Oregon? I didn't. Old weird tourist records are fun. One of my favorites is this Sound-souvenir Record about the Detroit Zoological Park. Holiday in Oregon isn't as thick with sound-effects as that because it keeps stopping for celebrity monologues. Oddly, legendary vocal actor Mel Blanc performs his as a French man questioning a Mexican in voices you might recognize from the generic background characters supporting Pepe Le Pew and Speedy Gonzalez -- a strange choice of ethnic stereotypes when neither peoples particularly populate the region. At least he didn't do a toothy ah-so Asian. Since the Oregon Trail gets mentioned, I have to say that if you drive it, which I have, you can (and probably should) tie a rope to the steering wheel and take a nap while your car crosses Nebraska. It's literally a straight shot through torturously boring flatness for what seems like days. One of the three methods of hypnotizing chickens is the Chalk Line Method where you draw a straight line about a foot or so long then hold the chicken with its beak on one end, staring straight down the chalk line til they're stuck. Paralyzed. Zombified. And that's what'll happen to you after hours of staring at the Nebraska highway's center stripe. I'm sorry, but you know who settled Nebraska? People who fell out of their wagon and broke their leg or for some reason couldn't make it to Oregon. Nebraska's state motto ought to be "Go On Without Us." Oregon's is "Alis Volat Propiis," Latin for "She Flies With Her Own Wings," the "She" being Oregon, "Her Own Wings" referring to the formation of its government in 1843 as dependent neither upon the British to the north nor the United States to the east. If nothing else, I think you have to agree with its designation of Oregon's gender -- if only because using pissy poetry to tell everyone you don't need them sounds like a tweenage girl.
Don't Fight It (MP3)
by Rex Garvin & the Mighty Cravers
from Raw Funky Earth
Found for twenty-eight bucks at Jump Jump Music (vinyl). Larry Grogan at the great Funky 16 Corners writes: "Between 1957 and 1969 Garvin, as a solo, as leader of the Mighty Cravers and as a part of various groups recorded a number of 45s (and at least one album) for no less than fourteen different labels, only hitting the charts once in 1966 with ‘Sock It To Em J.B.’. Yet for all that work, and at least a few sides of soulful dynamite, the Rex Garvin story is limited to the print of the labels of those records." Larry's favorite Garvin cut is "I Gotta Go Now (Up on the Floor)" which he calls "one of the single most powerful soul 45s ever created." My favorite, however, is "Emulsified." How can you not dig an R&B blaster that compares love to the mixing of two unmixable liquids? And my second fave is the ominous stomper "Strange Happenings" which is actually the first record of Rex's I heard and where my craving for more Mighty Cravers began. The promo photo on the back of this LP is the only pic I've ever seen of Garvin and I wish it were in color. You just know those suits are something. From the liner notes I learned that the Mighty Cravers were an NYC band that eventually branched out and toured the coast, becoming "the funkiest group in towns throughout the East and as far west as Florida." Yes, as far west as Florida. If you're a diehard New Yorker -- like the kind that's never learned to drive because in Manhattan you never need to -- that's actually a sensical geographic statement, and my guess is that's the kind of New Yorker that Rex Garvin was. Now if we can just find out what borough... [P.S.: The Bronx it turns out. Found a short bio of Garvin here.]
Excerpt (Jock Strap Blues - The Cash Customer ) (MP3)
by Bert Henry
from The Uncensored Humor of Bert Henry
Found for twenty bucks at Shadow House Collectibles (vinyl). By day, Bert Henry was a scrawny nerd who worked in a chorus at Disneyland, but at night, he was an L.A. burlesque club comic who cut a series of raunchy stag party albums for Fax Records (Bert Henry in the Raw, Bert Henry the Hard Way), all of which similarly feature a nude woman on the cover. His recording career ended, however, when the head of the label was murdered along with the man's mistress who was found in a pose not unlike that of the model adorning this LP: "A manufacturer of risque records and an attractive nude woman were found in their bungalow at 7671 Fountain Ave., where they had been shot by an intruder on November 10, 1963. William H. Door, 46, identified by police as a widely known distributor of pornographic material, was lying fully dressed and face down with his feet bound on the dining room floor. Mrs. Ernestine Ellen Criss, 30, Door's mistress, was sprawled nude on her back in a king-size bed in one of the one of the two bedrooms. A pillow covered her face. Door, was shot twice, once in the back of the head and once in the hand. He had also had received two severe blows to the head, apparently in a struggle with his killer. Mrs. Criss was shot once in the mouth but was not beaten. Detectives theorized that Door and the dead woman may have been victims of a grudge killing by some of Door's associates in the pornography rackets. Friends said he had made a number of enemies through his rough handling of female models for the films and photographs he reportedly produced. Police believed Criss, who had been living with Door for at least a year, was awakened after retiring for the night and was shot through a pillow being held over her head to muffle her screams. Her killer then probably ambushed Door as he returned home. The bodies may have been in the house for as long as 12 hours before they were found at 8:30 a.m. by the cleaning lady. Door was said to be the owner of the Crescendo night club building on the Sunset Strip and had been associated in the past with The Garden of Allah, the Sphinx Club, Le Madelon and the Interlude. He was also said to have been a star football player at Temple U and for the Philadelphia Eagles." Found that info in a brochure for guided tours of notorious Los Angeles homes.
Dancing Frog (MP3)
by Wynder K. Frog
from The Touchables
Found for twelve bucks at Exiled Records (CDs, vinyl). The Touchables is a 1968 British mod movie in which four hot English girls dress up as nuns then kidnap a cocky, womanizing rock star from swinging London and take him to the countryside where they keep him as a sex slave in their giant, see-through plastic dome home (or "pleasure bubble" as one critic called it). There's also a subplot about a gay pro wrestler who gets jealous and tries to muscle his way into the action. The wrestler's played by Ricki Starr, a real pro wrestler who used to incorporate his ballet training into his ring style (see photo). The film's written by Ian La Frenais and Donald Cammell (who co-directed Performance) and directed by Beatles photographer Robert Freeman (who shot the cover for Rubber Soul). The title song is by cult flower pop band Nirvana (known post-Cobain as Nirvana U.K.). Wynder K. Frog is the alias of Hammond organist Mick Weaver. You can see the movie's trippy trailer here or here. This song's dying to be sampled.
. C.R.E.A.M. (MP3)
by the El Michels Affair
from Enter the 37th Chamber
Found for twelve bucks at the Game Exchange on Hawthorne (vinyl, CDs, DVDs). The clerk had just put this on when we walked in. It was a first listen for him as well and we all dug it right off. After a tune or two, I asked about it and learned the El Michels Affair is a group of studio musicians who used vintage equipment to record these old-style soul instrumentals based on Wu Tang Clan songs and the store had just bought this and other records from four dudes in a white van who drove down from Seattle with crates of vinyl titles carried by their distribution company Light in the Attic which they hawk store to store all down the coast, this time around heavily pushing their two reissued psych-folk albums by Rodriguez (they say Latino Dylan, I say Latino Donovan) and unloading lots of Serge Gainsbourg and The Monks. Later, I looked them up and found the four man van had chronicled their trip on their site. Meet today's traveling salesmen:
For a fun triple feature, here's the Wu Tang original plus the sampled source of its theme which I wonder if the El Michels Affair has heard. If I were them, I would have purposely avoided it.
C.R.E.A.M. (MP3)
by the Wu Tang Clan
from Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers)
As Long as I've Got You (MP3)
by The Charmels
Love is Love (MP3)
by Alemayno Eshintay
from Love is Love
Found for ten bucks at Discourage Rock & Roll (CDs, vinyl). Like Jackpot and Green Noise, Discourage runs a label along with a shop. Yet, when I asked the proprietor for recommendations -- what was he listening to lately, for example -- he didn't pitch his own stuff, but instead hipped me to this comp put out by his fellow Portlanders at Mississippi Records. During E and I's binge, whenever I've revealed that we're out to visit every record store in town, we've discovered much love from each establishment for another. Exiled Records also loves Mississippi. Like me, SMUT loves Green Noise's Sunday man Martin and his notes. And they both hipped me to this record sale out of some dude's garage -- where the record I wanted was forty bucks which I didn't have on me because, unlike my mother, I wouldn't think to bring that much to a garage sale unless I was looking for furniture. Lack of experience. And poverty. Still had a good time, though.
Love is Love is a collection of rare African singles. As the liner notes explain, "The styles of music featured on this LP are: R&B, Highlife, & Dry Guitar Music. The music on this LP was recorded between 1955 & 1972... with the exception of Chemirocha (which is incidentally an ode to the yodelin' brakeman - Jimmie Rodgers). We hope to release 3 more compilations of this type of music over the next two years. Unfortunately, due to our distaste for mass production & our limited budget, these future releases will also be of an exceptionally limited edition. Please record this LP & all others in this series onto cassette tape or digital files for any of your friends who you think may enjoy it. We need to stop sending rockets to the moon, & start taking care of each other here on earth." My notes on their notes: Dry Guitar is sometimes used to simply mean acoustic guitar but the term originated as a description of a specific playing style that came out of Congo. Says National Geographic: "In mining towns in the south-eastern province of Katanga in the 1940s and '50s, Jean Bosco Mwenda, Losta Abelo and other singing guitarists invented a troubadour style out of local thumb-piano patterns, Cuban sones and American country music. This gentle Swahili sound spread from Katanga to Zambia, Tanzania and Kenya, where it was called 'dry guitar'." Highlife is a West African genre featuring jazzy horns and multiple guitars. By limited edition, the label means pressings of 500 to 1,000 copies -- vinyl only -- sold at a reasonable price (say, 8 to 10 bucks). The blog Big States has taken them at their word and digitized many Mississippi Records releases, including their early mixed cassette tapes, and posted them for your pleasure. I didn't realize we were still sending lots of rockets to the moon, but I like the thought that my listening to these tunes somehow helps the world. I wonder what effect my listening to The International Vicious Society has.
Wee Wee (MP3)
by The Daniels
from The International Vicious Society Vol. 4
University of Vice Records says: "The most crazy compilations of 50's and 60's music from around the whole world!!! NO fusion-ethnic-world-muzic shit here! Instead, what you get is Italian Afro-Twist, Spanish Hillbilly, Polynesian Surf-a-twist, Mexican Psycho-Cats, American Voodoo, Chinese melodies from England, German Frat'n'Roll, Spage-Age Instro from Denmark, Belgian Stammering R'n'R, Uruguay's Psychotic Voices, Dead Chicken Dance from Holland, Mexican Psychocats, Folk 'N' Roll from Colombia, Martian Zounds from USA, French Arabic-pop, American Troglodyte Stomp, Cramps style instros, New Orleans Swamp Country, Gothic-Western from Argentina, Beat-Punkers from Switzerland, and more... !!! KRAY-ZEE!" For obvious reasons, my son is quite fond of this song.
Looks Like It's Going to Rain (MP3)
by Ken Nordine
from Word Jazz
Found for eight bucks at 360 Vinyl (vinyl, CDs, DJ gear). I'd heard this before and knew I wanted it. The clerk loved that I found it and started reciting "Black" from his own favorite Nordine album Colors. I, in turn, love that Nordine's work gets respect from young beat seekers, samplers, and DJs like those who work and shop at 360. Even if you haven't yet heard his jazz poems and sound-collage monologues, you'll probably recognize Nordine's deep resonant voice from his umpteen commercials and movie trailers. Here's how Tom Waits puts it: “Ken Nordine, yea I know that guy, I heard his voice 1000 times, he’s the guy in the bus station that says 'go ahead I’ll keep an eye on your stuff for you,' and you see him the next day walking around town wearing your clothes. He broadcasts from the boiler room of the Wilmont Hotel with 50,000 watts of power. I know that voice, he’s the guy with the pitchfork in your head saying go ahead and jump, and he’s the ambulance driver who tells you you’re going to pull thru. He’s the guy in the control tower who talked you down in a storm with a hole in your fuselage and both engines on fire. I heard him barking thru the Rose Alley Carnival strobe as samurai firemen were pulling hose. Yea he’s the dispatcher with the heart of gold, the only guy up this late on the suicide hotline. Ken Nordine is the real angel sitting on the wire in the tangled matrix of cobwebs that holds the whole attic together. Yea Ken Nordine, he’s the switchboard operator at the Taft Hotel, the only place in town you can get a drink at this hour. You know Ken Nordine, he’s the lite in the icebox, he’s the blacksmith on the anvil in your ear.” I picked this track because, in Portland, the only time it doesn't look like it's going to rain is when it's raining already. We were warned by a local pal that using an umbrella, however, would mark us as tourists. Apparently, we can either stay dry or stay cool, our choice. For over forty years, however, Ken Nordine has stayed both. Hear for yourself at Word Jazz.
Little E's Excerpt (MP3)
by DJ Afrika Bambaataa
from Death Mix 2
Found for seven bucks at Platinum Records (vinyl, DJ gear). According to Afrika's own organization, the Zulu Nation, his name translated means "affectionate leader." Hip-hop has so thoroughly conquered music culture and for so long that it's pretty effing amazing to stop and think about how much what Bambaataa did has led to. Mixes like this, though, is where it all started. Two turntables. Beats and breaks. Live, improvisational editing. Keeping the party jumping. Making schizophrenic, minimalist dance music using mere moments from songs repeated and twisted and scratched. And they'd find those moments in all manner of music, anything committed to wax. Like aural explorers, they combed every culture and genre in search of a few exquisite seconds of sound. Then they employed the actual, physical, vinyl record as an instrument. It was all so raw and hands-on and alive. Some deep homegrown avant garde shit. And that's not even discussing the groundbreaking dances and fashions that went with it. On top of which, after reading Jeff Chang's Can't Stop, Won't Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation, I think a case could be made that Afrika Bambaataa was, in his way, a successful peace activist. But hey, you read it (I mean it, go read it) and tell me. One of the things that struck me when I read Chang's chapters on those days was how, for its original participants, hip-hop was a brief, passing phase already long dead and over by the time the rest of the nation discovered it. Paul Winley Records released the original Death Mix in 1983. Death Mix 2 is a recently discovered alternative version. All depending on how you look at it, you could say both were posthumous releases. Little E's Excerpt is my son's favorite part of Side A to which he loves to literally hop. I don't know if that makes him hip. 
Joumana (MP3)
by Rafic Hobeika
from Music for an Oriental Dance Vol. 1 - Danses de Nadia Gamal
Found for seven bucks at Q is for Choir (vinyl). I think the store name is ha-ha clever but I couldn't get my wife to agree. She says it's because she's a chronic misspeller, she doesn't think jokes about misspelling are funny. The dancer on the cover looks a lot like my dirty hippy friend Ho. Ho's not her name but what she is and not the most clever nickname, I know, but I call her like I see her. Who the dancer really is, though, is Lebanese legend Nadia Gamal. I don't know if Nadia was a ho, but I do know her most distinctive trait was her passion. The Hollywood Music Centre describes her dance style as "fiery, yet infinitely feminine. She gave 110% all of the time, in every step, movement and gesture she made while dancing. Her stamina and energy levels were unsurpassed. Even towards the end of her shows, her dancing was just as vibrant and fresh as when she first entered the stage." She starred in a handful of Egyptian and Lebanese films and later produced instructional videos of her Middle Eastern dance workshops which are still available so, luckily, if you want to see the legend in action, you can. If you're in Portland and want to see a belly dancer in person, you can go to Moroccan restaurant Marrakesh or Lebanese restaurant Al Amir. If you want to hear more belly dance music, check out Portland's own Radio Bastet. If you want to learn how to belly dance, you can easily find cool, inexpensive how-to records. I found this one for five bucks at Jackpot:
Misirlou (MP3)
by George Abdo and His "Flames of Araby" Orchestra
from The Joy of Belly Dancing
George Abdo was known for fusing American music methods with traditional Middle Eastern tunes, creating -- for lack of a better term -- a truly Arab-American sound. This particular LP comes with an instruction booklet for a complete and original belly dance routine as demonstrated by Juliana, the unusually buxom dancer on this and other Abdo covers. Another dancer named Vina wrote the routine. A dancer named Amber plays castanets. I don't know why, but all Abdo's dancers go by their first names only. I prefer it when strippers and wrestlers avoid last names so they don't pick monikers better suited for porn stars, drag queens, or bar room limericks. I'm not sure about belly dancers. Ozel Turkbas sounds grander than just Ozel -- or does it? Anyways, here's some sample instructions from Juliana:
Arousal (MP3)
by The Arousers
from Do The Arousal with The Arousers
Found for six bucks at Crossroads Music (vinyl, CDs). Over 35 music dealers maintain their own inventory on a consignment basis at Crossroads. (Which makes it, essentially, 35 stores in one. Jump Jump Music told me this is unheard of and I won't find a record store like it anywhere else. When I asked why not, he said because in other towns, the record dealers don't like or trust each other.) If memory serves, I got this from the fellow who has a section for records with nude and cheesecake ladies on the covers. What aroused my interest in The Arousers was that they cover Mad Mike. I saw "Made in the Czech Republic" on the sleeve and had this whole fantasy of them being Eastern European, playing "The Hunch" sloppy drunk with the fervor of crazed gypsies while maintaining deadpan faces beneath greased towers of hair like Gogol Bordello meets the Leningrad Cowboys. Alas, I think they're just Limeys. They sound better, though, when I pretend they're Slavs. Mad Mike, if you don't know, refers in this case to iconic Pittsburgh radio jock Mike Metrovich. It's been nice to see that almost every record shop in town is carrying Mad Mike Monsters, which I can't recommend enough: three volumes (thus far) compiled by Norton Records of the wild 45s discovered and popularized by Mad Mike during his prime on-air years in the late 1960s. I have to admit that I bought my favorite record of our binge at Crossroads -- another Norton release, Hannibalism!, featuring highlights like "Jerkin' the Dog" from the career of The Mighty Hannibal, my favorite ex-pimp soul singer (sorry Darondo -- hey, you're still my favorite ex-pimp cable access show host). The Studs Terkel-style liner notes based on interviews by Billy Miller and Miriam Linna are awesome. At one point, Mighty Hannibal tells us, "I was rich and young, but I had a heroin habit. I ended up getting a $79,000 tax bill. My brother was my accountant. He said, 'Jimmy, where did this $79,000 go?' 'Up my nose!' I went to the penitentiary for 18 months. John Mitchell, the Attorney General, was my neighbor in the next cell." Just thought I'd share that bit of trivia since it pertains to another record coming up.
Found for six bucks at Anthem Records (vinyl, CDs). I bought this because my baby mama is a beautiful Southern blonde who's a quarter Japanese, so I thought somehow this might make a cute gift. But the more time I've spent with it, the more it freaks me out, so I haven't even shown it to her yet. It's basically a bunch of classical music that's supposed to soothe your baby and make them smarter, which maybe explains the kid's big alien head.
Lumberjack (MP3)
by Johnny Cash
from Ride This Train
Found for five bucks at Vintage Pink, an antique mall and retro boutique where many of the consigned sellers have record bins. More on this song soon. Also still to come, our finds from Craig Moerer's Records by Mail and Vinyl Resting Place.
Tequila and Squirt (MP3)
from Squirt Does Its Thing
Found for five bucks at SMUT (So Many Unique Treasures) (vinyl, cassettes, DVDs). I've dug some product promo 45s -- like "The Sand Step" by The Nilsmen (for Camel cigarettes) or 7-Eleven's "Dance the Slurp" -- so I figured there was at least a chance for a cool tune here. Sorry. I should've known. First off, Squirt is a lame soda. Compared to The Dew, it's The Don't. It is soooo not extreme. I mean, how sissy and unsexy of a tag is The Semi-Soft Drink? Even if semi-soft is meant to suggest in a glass-half-full way that it's also semi-hard, it's a horrible adjective made even worse by coupling it with the otherwise uplifting and jizzy name Squirt, resulting in equating your soda with something that instead issues forth from flaccidity, namely urine. "Tequila and Squirt" is the one original number written specifically for this album and if that title doesn't reinforce the thought of piss then perhaps you don't drink as much tequila as I do. Anyways, I should've known. And so should you. There's no reason you should listen to this. Really. But am I glad I bought it? You bet. I'd say it definitely falls under the category Unique Treasure. And I know the perfectly perverted culture junkie who'll love this for the cover and its golden shower subtext and should be receiving it shortly.
Tom's Song (MP3)
by The Fabulous Trammps
from The Legendary Zing Album
Found for five bucks at One Stop Records (CDs, vinyl). Located in a boring concrete slab of a building between its other two tenants, a classic black barbershop called Texas T's and a storefront gospel church, One Stop reminds me how few non-pale-ass-white folks seem to populate Portland. As far as I've found, this building may in fact be, in and of itself, the black part of P-town. Some may recognize The Trammps from "Disco Inferno" which hit the charts three years after this not-so-legendary LP's release. Twenty-five years after that, one of the band members beat his wife with a handgun on Valentine's Day because he thought she'd cheated on him. Four years or so from now, he'll be eligible for parole. Frankly, the full denim look the band's sporting on the cover gives me prison vibes now that I know that. As you can see from the sticker on the cover, "Tom's Song" is one of the cuts Bhudda Records suggested to DJs was worthy of airplay. To the contrary, rock critic Robert Christgau counts it among the album's "three soggy originals, all of them orchestral intros disguised as songs." I think they're both right. Sometimes soggy pseudo songs deserve airplay too. Especially at small town roller rinks still stuck in the Farrah era of perms and pokies which is where this took me. Hope it transports you too. Not to prison, though. Maybe forget that thing I said about their outfits. Sam Prekop fans should check this.
Teardrops (MP3)
by Marvin Rainwater
Found for three bucks at Sonic Recollections (vinyl). The photo on back is of Wade Holmes, the Carolina Playboy, who inexplicably sings all the songs on side two. At left is a picture of Marvin Rainwater from his rockabilly heyday. I've read that he's a quarter Cherokee, but I've also read that he actually has no idea whether he has any Native American in him or not; it was just a persona he came up with that went with his name. According to the discography on Marvin's website Bluebird Corners, this LP came out in 1972 but contains demos recorded at a Washington, DC studio in 1953/54. Bluebird Corners is the name of the burned-out convenience store in Aitkin County, Minnesota behind which Rainwater lives in a turquoise trailer. (He moved to the snow country, as he calls it, in the 1970s to recover from a battle with throat cancer and regain his voice.) It's also a nod to his biggest hit single "Gonna Find Me a Bluebird." In a 1998 interview by Leif Enger of Minnesota Public Radio, Marvin, then 73, discussed the slippery nature of success and how, after hitting the charts, a small studio where he'd recorded early demo tapes sold the tapes to a number of disreputable labels who dubbed new tracks over the demos then released them. "They sold a million of my albums at eighty-eight cents apiece, and it destroyed my career," he lamented. "My credibility was shot on account of those cheap records, they were demo tapes, not even actual recordings, and they dubbed music in on top of it, got out of meter, didn't know the melody or anything. It was horrible, and the sound was real cheap you know; on account of me having 'The Bluebird', this was after I did 'Bluebird', then they put all this stuff in the market, see, flooded the market with these cheap albums -- and my credibility was shot." I don't know whether this demo is one of those. Nor do I know how Rainwater's faring these days. His website hasn't been updated for a while. But check out this poem he posted in 2001. The title asks How'd Ja Like to Be Me? MAMA DIDN'T WANT ME & DADDY WAS GONE
I GUESS YOU MIGHT SAY ..WASN'T MUCH OF A HOME
JUST A BIG OLE HOUSE FULL OF FIGHTIN' KIDS
AND NOBODY CARED MUCH WHAT I DID
WELL I KNOW YOU MIGHT SAY IT'S ALL MY FAULT
'CUZ I'VE HEARD YOU SAY I AIN'T WORTH MY SALT
WELL...HERE'S MY SHOES..PUT 'EM ON YOUR FEET
AND THINK ABOUT ME WHEN YOU HIT THE STREET
NOT SURE WHERE TO GO NOT KNOWING WHERE TO TURN
BUT YOU'LL FEEL THAT RAGE THAT STARTS TO BURN
YOU'LL TURN YOUR BACK ON THE ONES YOU LOVE
AND YOU'LL HAVE NO TIME FOR THE MAN ABOVE
DON'T WORRY 'BOUT TOMORROW JUST LIVE FOR TODAY
'CUZ YOU AIN'T GONNA LIVE TO SEE YOUR HAIR TURN GRAY.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO TAKE MY KNIFE
AND HERE'S MY GUN
JUST DON'T LOOK BACK
WHEN YOU START TO
RUNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnn............
Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell and Dean (MP3)
by The Creep
Mr. G. Records 826
Found for three bucks at Music Millennium (CDs, DVDs, vinyl). With lines like "We might have had flaws, like bending the laws, but God only knows it was for a good cause" or "It just isn't fair to take all of the blame when all we were doing was playing the game," updating this 1973 novelty song about Watergate and its unapologetic co-conspirators might take little more than changing the names. Listening to them sing about "one little bug" reminds you how quaint the Nixon crew's crimes were compared to today's widespread warrantless surveillance, not to mention our international infractions like a baseless preemptive war and programmatic state-sanctioned torture. Personally, I don't want Obama to bother explaining to me why we're not prosecuting the Bush-Cheney crew for the four treaties they've broken, I want him to go to the nearest reservation, look the oldest Indian he can find in the face and try explaining it to them. But, hey, I'm a stay-at-home dad, so I watch waaaaay too much news and am easily triggered into political tirades. Which is why I bought this song. I was so happy with my purchase, I was excited to visit the other Music Millennium branch, but sadly found it boarded up and for lease. Painted in large letters on the outside of Music Millennium's remaining store is the motto KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD. In Texas, it's KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD and KEEP ASHEVILLE WEIRD in North Carolina (although lately we've been seeing more succinct and bitter bumper stickers like "Don't Move Here"). The Music Millennium website explains that keeping it weird means supporting local businesses and entrepreneurs and maintaining a balance between a city's unique culture and homegrown commerce and national corporate chains. For many small businesses these days, it's do or die time. Andrew Stout writes in the latest Portland Mercury that, in the five-year period leading up to the first Record Store Day last year, about 1,500 independent record stores closed. That's not good. But what is good is that Portland's Mayor Sam Adams has not only declared Saturday officially Record Store Day in his direct support of all these fine establishments Little E and I have been visiting, he's even DJing at a free party that night and spinning records himself. Weird, huh.
I Want to Be Loved (MP3)
by The Lovers
Post 10007
Found for three bucks (not five like it says) at Green Noise Records (CDs, vinyl, cassettes). The description written on the sleeve by Martin (a.k.a. "the guy who works Sundays") reads: "Husband & wife R&B duo, very cute, the chick is great (reminds me of little Nanette Culpepper in 7th grade, she used to put her soft brown hands over my eyes and whisper in my ear 'Guess who,' I loved that girl, still do) Okay but could you talk about the record, Martin. Okay, it's got that sweet innercity black girl group-like charm, the chick was made for girl group. 'I wanna be loved' has a super cool guitar, busts into a rockabilly bridge, both sides kinda corny but I love that side." I've bought a few more records because of Martin's notes. Sometimes he even draws little illustrative doodles. I haven't met the man and I'm not sure I want to. I kind of like having him as a pen pal of sorts. Martin also writes that this is actually a 1960 re-issue of two 1957 A-sides originally on LAMP Records. I've added two more records from Martin at the end of this post. I want him to be loved.
Mockingbird After Midnight (MP3)
by Pansonic Records
Found for two-fifty at Jackpot Records east (CDs, vinyl). I love how the previous owner wrote COLLECTORS ITEM on the front of this. Before you criticize them for their clear ignorance of collectors, check the liner notes on the back and you see they've drawn arrows to the phrase "collector's item" -- which is already in quotes, mind you -- and have also helpfully underlined "bird lovers everywhere," qualifying for whom this rare-for-a-reason recording is considered a so-called collectable. My guess is this was a gift to just such a person. (See, "bird lovers everywhere" -- that's you! A "collector's item" -- well, that's when I knew you had to have it!) Of course, who really wants a record like this is a geek like me. I don't own the Folkways classic release Sounds of North American Frogs by Charles M. Bogert out of irony or for samples. I'll actually put it on and listen to it while cleaning house. Another reason I wanted this was because of Texas. As a child, I asked my great-grandmother about our family's ethnic heritage. She mumbled through the branches of her family tree ("Well, he was German, but I think she was Swedish...") until she finally and firmly decided: "We're Texan." Also, this is pressed, strangely I think, on vibrant red vinyl. If you've even read this far, then you're at least interested or insane enough to deserve a bonus, so here it is, another in the narrow niche of Texas wildlife records:
Fox, Coyote, Cat - Calling Instructions (MP3)
by Burnham Bros.
Marble Falls, which calls itself the Granite Capitol, is about an hour west of Austin. Burnham Brothers has been making its world famous animal call devices there for over fifty years now. This is a demon-stration record for a caller that makes the sounds of a squealing rabbit, mainly to attract coyotes. As you see on the label, "actual rabbit squeals" are also presented to serve as both example and comparison. Obviously, there's always the chance that this may cause one or more of you to join the FBI and track serial killers until the rabbits in your head have stopped squealing, but I like the narration.
Whiskey (Wash the Pain from My Heart) (MP3)
by Ralph Richardson and Skip Dowers with La-Tex Swamplanders
Goldband 1314
Found for two-fifty at Jackpot Records west (CDs, vinyl). This is the kind of song that belongs on Barstool Mountain. If you look at the handwriting on it, you'll see it was signed by the violinist Ralph Richardson, dated 3/11/86, and inscribed "Happy Birthday Anita." Gosh, what a great gift to give a woman. Yep, here's a song my pal Skip wrote about a guy at a bar who just learned his wife's been cheating on him so he's asking his whiskey to help him figure out how he's going to go home and kick her out then explain to his kids in the morning that their mom's gone and she's not coming back. But don't worry. Skip ain't that guy. Hell, he likes his whores too much to ever get married and I don't think he's had a drop to drink since he started them pills. And the gal ain't you. I mean, I don't know you, but you look like the kind that sticks with whatever they're stuck with. So it's just a song, you know. But we hope you like it. Anyway -- Anita, was it? Here ya go. Good to meet ya. And good luck with getting old.
Southern Fried (MP3)
by Earl Bostic and His Orchestra
Found for two bucks at Reflections in Time (vinyl, CDs, cassettes). From Space Age Pop: "Bostic's distinctive style, strong on the sax and heavy on the beat, was quite successful in the rhythm and blues market in the 1950s. One of the few jazz musicians of his generation with formal training, Bostic studied composition at Xavier University in New Orleans in the early 1930s, and then spent several years performing with territory bands in the Midwest as well as with Fate Marable, who led one of the last Mississippi riverboat bands. His reputation as a superb instrumentalist earned him an invitation to come to New York City, where he played with Hot Lips Page and Lionel Hampton. After a couple of years with Hampton, during which he became more and more active as an arranger, Bostic left to work as a free-lancer, writing for bands such as Jack Teagarden's and Louis Prima, and taking occasional playing jobs. He was a regular at the legendary sessions at Minton's nightclub, where Charlie Christian, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, and others helped create what became known as bebop, and Bostic was considered one of the hottest players on that stage. Then, after the war, he bucked the trends and formed his own band while others were folding theirs. His success at first, recording for the small label Majestic, was nothing special. But then he trimmed the group down to a seven-piece ensemble and adapted his arrangements to emphasize a simple melody line on sax and a strong dance beat, and switched to the Gotham label, where he had a Top 10 R&B hit with a cover of 'Temptation.' Two years latter, Syd Nathan lured him away to his Cincinnati-based label, King, and Bostic remained one of King's featured artists until his death. Ironically, Bostic sold better in white markets than black, perhaps the only black artist of whom that could be said. Bostic went on to place four other tunes, including his most famous single, 'Flamingo,' in the R&B Top 10 list. Although he kept a core group that included Gene Redd (later a successful R&B producer) on vibes, the list of musicians who spent time playing for Bostic is pretty impressive: John Coltrane, Stanley Turrentine, Blue Mitchell, Don Byas, Cozy Cole, Tiny Grimes, Sir Charles Thompson, Jackie Byard, Benny Golson, Richard 'Groove' Holmes, and Earl Palmer, just to name a few. Although Bostic's sound was rather strident on most of his King hits, Art Blakey once said that, 'Nobody knew more about the saxophone than Bostic, I mean technically, and that includes Bird.' In the late 1950s, Bostic suffered from severe heart problems and stopped performing and recording for nearly two years. He moved to Los Angeles and resumed performing intermittently in 1959, but he never returned to the pace of the early 1950s. He also returned to recording, but this time with a more laid-back kind of soul-tinged jazz. He died after suffering a second heart attack while playing a hotel opening in Rochester. John Waters used Bostic's version of 'Jungle Drums' to good effect in his 1992 film Cry Baby."
Warner the Drummer (MP3)
by Triumphs
Wand 11228 B
Found for a dollar at Mississippi Records (vinyl, turntables). It was in the Soul/R&B section and had "Drummer" in the title, so I was hoping for a beat, maybe a break. Warner, however, ain’t no funky drummer. Which is why I didn’t dig this at first, but it’s hard to explain why I do now. For me, rightly or wrongly, this song comes from that same realm of endearing rock moronics mined by fictions like Flight of the Conchords or Almost Famous. The drama of the electric piano opening, for inst, is so of its era, it just begs for bold karaoke and/or interpretive dance. I can totally see the Solid Gold dancers striking some Fosse pose on those hi-hat notes then snapping their fingers like Sharks and Jets. As my wife would say, it’s redunkulous. Then you get this CCR guitar chugging chorus with a walking blues bass line and later some Memphis horn stabs. It reminds me of trying to explain what kind of music Kurt Wagner’s band Lambchop makes. But I think I keep listening to it for the lyrics and the awkward sincerity in their dumbness. I like to believe this song’s a true story, one musician’s “I love you, man” to another. Hell, I bet Warner’s not only real but that’s his real name. Or maybe I simply can’t understand the aesthetic choice of Warner if the name’s made up. Anyways, Warner’s a cool dude. Spends all day with his drums, all evening with friends. A mellow fellow, sweet, kind of quiet. Has at least two good male friends who'd do anything for him, both of whom are described here as “whimsical.” And I think one of them wrote this song to try to cheer Warner up. What happened was Warner had this Foxy Young Lady who left him for a fast-talking agent named Steve. (I think Eminem would appreciate how Steve rhymes with dream and keen. Like Warner, the name Steve doesn’t seem chosen because it helps a rhyme scheme or sounds cool, but because it’s probably the guy’s real name.) Warner didn't try to stop her or get her back. He didn't confront Steve, though he could have. It was Warner, after all, who was wronged. But he didn’t do anything. The friend who wrote this song for him wants Warner to know that doing nothing was the cool thing to do. Turned out Steve was married with three kids and wasn't about to leave his family for the Foxy Young Lady. So she got dumped by that bullshitting, babe-stealing, no-balls Steve and by the time she tried to get back with Warner, our boy had already moved on and was dating one of his friend's little sister. Because that’s the kind of guy Warner is, the kind you’d let date your sister. A Nice Guy, in other words. Which is why the moral of the story is for the women to learn: see, this kind of shit is what you get, girls, if you choose some flashy dude when you could have a Nice Guy like Warner. You can just see the singer and drummer exchanging meaningful male-bonding looks on stage. Ah, bromance. This is the kind of pep talk that usually comes with a beer and a fuck-that-bitch pat on the back. Which begs the question: why does Warner even need cheering up? He’s got a new girl, a good life. Why's he still bumming about the Foxy Young Lady? Because that’s how foxy she was -- the kind the front men, not the rhythm section, usually score. So, ultimately, this may not be funky, but at least the drummer gets some.
Besame Mucho (MP3)
by The 50 Guitars of Tommy Garrett
from 50 Guitars Go South of the Border
Found for a dollar at a coffee shop on 37th and Belmont. “All major music producing studios in Hollywood, with one exception, were strangely dark and silent on three evenings last February,” the uncredited liner notes tell us. “Guitars and guitarists, an essential part of any modern recording session, were not available for regular duty. Instead, every guitar virtuoso in the film city had been booked to record en masse in three night-long sessions at Liberty Records. During those sessions, in a huge studio alive with the sounds of music, Liberty added a chapter to the history of guitar. That chapter, entitled 50 Guitars Go South Of The Border, recorded the combined efforts of the world’s most renowned guitar soloists. Playing together for the first time, they produced a new string dimension -- the sound of the guitar in depth.” I love those phrases “a new string dimension” and “the guitar in depth.” I know what they’re trying to say and it might apply to Dennis Coffey’s overdubbed electric guitar sound in “Scorpio” but I’m sorry, a large group of acoustic guitars playing the same bar chords in unision just sounds like a private music school putting on a recital. Although I've chosen the track that's the least guilty of it -- and for that very reason -- I think you can still hear what I mean. I can neither affirm nor deny whether there are, in fact, 50 guitars. There's no movie credits-like scroll of names, just this: "The solos of Laurindo Almeida are backed by the elite choir of Mexican and jazz guitarists, including Barney Kessel, Howard Roberts, Al Viola, Bob Bain, Tiny Timbrell, Bill Pitman, Jose Barroso and many others whose exclusive contracts do not allow their names to be included here." If you count Tommy Garrett, that's only nine. But still...
Pizza & Beer (MP3)
by Louis Prima & Keely Smith
from On Broadway
Found for a dollar at Everyday Music west (CDs, DVDs, vinyl). Everyday Music stores are so named because, yes, they are open every day -- New Year's, Christmas, Thanksgiving, your birthday -- from 9AM to Midnight. First heard this song on WFMU’s Teenage Wasteland years ago and offer it up here in case you've been looking for it since back then, too. You may notice Keely Smith's name is misspelled on the cover. I've read that she's part Cherokee and part Irish. Racial profiling would suggest that's not someone you'd want to make angry. But it does sound like someone I'd want to drink with. With its slew of microbreweries and microdistilleries, Portland’s a great place for beer. Oregon-grown foods and wines are also generally quite good and carried by many area grocers and restaurants. I’d say Portlanders are rightly proud to be in front of the Local Food movement. I find their particular brand of pride a bit funny, though. It’s like they wish they could be smug (as, say, San Francisco), but no one’s paying them any attention, so they just kind of puff their chests long enough to look in the mirror, then breathe out, let it go, and move on. Stephen Colbert’s right: Oregon really is California’s Canada. As for pizza, I used to live in Brooklyn so Portland could have the best pizza in the world, which it doesn't, and you'd see me sell my sister on the corner before you heard me say so. (Defend Brooklyn!) That's also why my favorite thing about this song is how ugly the girl from New Jersey is.
Just a Closer Walk with Thee (MP3)
by Al Hirt
from Struttin’ Down Royal Street
Found for fifty cents at Everyday Music east (CDs DVDs, vinyl). Commemorates the music of what trumpeter Al Hirt calls the New Orleans Negro funeral. “The pattern of the funerals,” explains the liner notes by Leonard Feather, “was a firmly established tradition. On the way to the graveyard, the musicians played slowly and solemnly, following the trumpeter or cornetist.... Generally, there were one or two cornets, one or two clarinets, banjo, tuba and drums. After the burial... the band would turn around and march back toward the center of town, swinging bombastically and contagiously all the way.” One of the reasons I offer up “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” is because it accompanies the turn in the turn around. It begins with a somber dirge played graveside, then the band leaves behind the dead and the past and starts the synchopated dance back to town. A gentle yet forceful shift of mood and direction. It doesn’t demand you stop mourning, but urges you with the inertia of necessity to return to life, to celebrate life, to keep living. It seems somehow appropriate for these times in which an acheing world seeks so many reversals of fortune. It reminds us that, in the grand scheme of things, we’re all headed for poverty and catastrophe eventually and damn lucky fuckers to be here at all. Life's too short to spend too much of it crying. So march on, people, march on. (And while we're now moving forward, let us please for the love of fucking God make some real goddamn headway on rebuilding New Orleans. Amen.)
Chicken Necks (MP3)
by Don & Juan
Big Top 3079
Found for fifty cents at The Needle thrift shop (vinyl). From Oldies-dot-com: "Don And Juan were a US R&B vocal duo who recorded one Top 10 ballad that has since become a doo-wop classic: 'What's Your Name' (1962). Don (Roland Trone) and Juan (b. Claude Johnson) were members of a vocal quartet called the Genies in Brooklyn, New York, USA. In 1959 the Genies released the up-tempo single 'Who's That Knockin'', which reached number 71 in the US charts on Shad Records. Unable to follow it with another hit, the group was dropped from the label, and subsequent recordings for Hollywood Records and Warwick Records also failed to chart. Trone and Johnson left the group and became house painters in the Long Island, New York area, until they were rediscovered, this time by an agent named Peter Paul, who arranged for the pair to sign with Big Top Records. Under their new name, they recorded 'What's Your Name', which reached number 7 in the Billboard charts in February 1962. Only one other single, 'Magic Wand', charted, although Don And Juan continued to record until 1967. Trone died in 1983 and Johnson rekindled the act with Alexander 'Buddy' Faison, another former member of the Genies, as the new Don." Insert mafia joke here. "Chicken Necks" is the much better b-side of their Top 10 classic. I can't stop singing it. "Chicken heads... chicken feet... chicken necks is all I eat!" I found the below recipe for stuffed chicken necks at Mimi's Cyber Kitchen:
Title: BUBBE'S STUFFED HELZEL (FALSA KISHKA)
Categories: Jewish, Main dish, Poultry
Yield: 1 servings
1/2 c Flour; or matzo meal
1 lg Potato; mashed
1/8 ts Salt
1 md Onion; grated
1/4 c Schmaltz; melted or soft -uncooked
Egg; if needed, or chicken fat
1. Combine all ingredients. Sew up the small end of chicken neck and fill 3/4 full. Sew up other end.
2. Wash with cold water, then pour boiling water over. This will make skin smooth.
3. Roast in oven with meat or chicken or by itself in well greased pan.
Recipe may be doubled or tripled. This may also be made with a combination of flour, matzo meal, oatmeal, or farina. Bread crumbs may be used instead of flour and browned diced onion may be added to crumbs. Season as you like; more onion, fine; a little garlic, why not. Use your imagination.
NOTE: My Grandmother made 'False Kishke' this way...she used the neck skin of the turkey or chicken instead of the cow's kishkies. If you don't know what a kishke is; maybe you shouldn't ask...
Hiilawe (MP3)
by Alfred Apaka
from Hawaiian Village Nights
Found for a dollar at the Game Exchange on Mississippi (vinyl, CDs, DVDs, video games). If you heard this song at a trendy coffee shop, you might mistake it for David Byrne, but as you see above, it’s actually velvety vocalist Alfred Apaka, an Hawaiian-Chinese-Portuguese crooner who used to appear on Bob Hope’s radio shows. What drew me to this album, though, is what’s right behind him. As Rick Ward’s liner notes explain, “The recording herein was made in the unique Kaiser Aluminum Dome at the Hawaiian Village Hotel, Waikiki. The first structure of its kind ever built, the Dome is constructed of diamond-shaped aluminum panels geometrically arranged and bolted together, requiring no interior support.” Although invented by the great Buckminster Fuller, this geodesic dome was commercially called a Kaiser Dome after Henry J. Kaiser, the industrialist who owned the license to mass produce it. Not coincidentally, Kaiser also owned the Hawaiian Village Hotel. I believe it’d be beneficial in these times to re-examine some of Fuller’s ideas, especially concerning design science and its impact on global prosperity. I also just think it’s neat to hear music that was played in one of the first geodesic domes. That’s the kind of nerd I am. Coincidentally, this LP has a song called "Ka-lu-a" on it which turns out to be a totally different song than the one sung by Louie Roberts, one that doesn’t chant or yodel the word but still hyphenates it. And I believe the conductor, Don Costa, is the father of the Funky White Bitch, Nikka Costa. As for the Kaiser Dome, it was demolished in 2001 and replaced with the Kalia Tower. It was 44 years old.
Ka-lu-a (MP3)
by Louie Roberts
Found at 2nd Avenue Records (vinyl, CDs). The Hawaiian word kalua means to cook in an underground oven called an imu. Kahlua is a sweet Mexican liqueur made from coffee. Louie Roberts was an obscure country singer from Greenbrier, Tennessee who was 14 at the time he crooned this tune and likely neither drank liquor nor cooked. The picture at left is from a TV performance he did when he was 12 that's now playing on You Tube. I had never heard of him and bought this because of the title. Especially because of the hyphens. I thought they might signify a rhythmic or chantlike chorus, but discovered instead something more like proof that Southern angels not only have red clay wings, they yodel. I'm just saying when Louie hits that first "lu," you'll hear why it's singled out. I scored five 45s for a dollar here, meaning this only cost me 20 cents. The reason I've mentioned the prices of the records I've posted is because I know times are tough for many out there and sometimes we need to be reminded that we can still do a lot for a little. And we can still give ourselves those small gifts that get us through our days, like spending the next three minutes letting our minds float in the mysterious faux-Hawaiian heaven of “Ka-lu-a.”Bonus Songs:
Thanks Portland. Here's back atcha.
Pacific Honky Tonk (MP3)
by The Don Rays
Capco 103
Columbia River Song (MP3)
by J.J. Jones
Rex 5023
The Look of Love (MP3)
by Mystic Moods Orchestra
from Moods for a Stormy Night
Green Noise's Sunday man Martin describes "Pacific Honky Tonk" as "garage, honky tonk/rockabilly instrumental, great shit, cool fuzzy twangy guitar + hollars, maybe not great but pretty damn cool." He describes "Columbia River Song" simply as "a Northwest country classic." I think Portlanders will uniquely appreciate the absurdity of the Mystic Moods formula: rain + muzak = sex.
