Listen: Chittlins / Gus Jenkins
Chittlins

Damn, I wish I knew more about Gus Jenkins. I know he recorded as early as ’56, under the name Gus Jinkins, and he’s up there as one of the most mysterious raw blues obscurities around.

Someone at Capitol decided to release ‘Chittlins’ via their newly formed subsidiary, Tower, in late ’64.

The Tower label went on until ’68, amassing a small, but fairly collectable bunch of releases, the most famous of course being all the very early US singles by The Pink Floyd. But there were more, Joe Meek masters by Heinz and Tom Jones, Ian Whitcomb & Bluesville, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Standells…pull up a Tower discography sometime. Nice stuff.

Even on first listen, you’ll agree, a wonderfully noticeable amount of Gus Jenkins’ swagger may have influenced The Cramps just a bit, and even more, The Rolling Stones, sounding not unlike any number of tracks from their first few albums.

According to BILLBOARD’s November 14, 1964 RnB DJ Roundup below, along with Jimmy Reed’s ‘I’m Going Upside Your Head’, Ed Wright at WABO Cleveland was spinning it, Ed Hardy over at KDIA in San Francisco chose ‘Chittlins’ as well as Little Jerry Williams’ ‘I’m The Lover Man’, a filthy sleaze fest of a single, a no fucking around must for every collection. And let’s not forget WYLD’s Ed ‘Screaming’ Teamer in New Orleans, who was not only jamming Gus Jenkins and Little Jerry Williams, but was playing the mad great ‘My Country Sugar Mama’ by Howlin’ Wolf.

Listen: Questions I Can’t Answer / Heinz
Questions

I discovered Heinz a good bit after the fact, in the early 70′s. His original band, The Tornadoes were of some interest, ‘Telstar’ being a noticeably eerie hit when I was a little guy. I even remember being scared of it, considering it bad luck.

Year later, I came to connect Joe Meek, who produced ‘Telstar’, with a few other singles of very similar ambience, The Cryin’ Shames ‘Please Stay’ and The Honeycombs ‘Have I The Right’ in particular. I stumbled upon a US 7″ of ‘Just Like Eddie’ by Heinz on the old purple and white London label indicating it’s pre 1965 release, and put down the 25¢ for it in a junk shop somewhere off Salina Street in Syracuse’s not so nice part of town. What a surprise, it was great and had that name, Joe Meek, listed as producer. My curiosity grew.

Now there are endless stories of interest surrounding Joe Meek’s legend, I have a few of my own.

Enamored with his history, I recall vividly getting off an evening arrival flight into Heathrow with Corinne, dropping our stuff off at the hotel, dragging her right into a cab and heading for 304 Holloway Road, where both his infamous studio was located and his even more infamous suicide took place. It was by now very late and in the cold November drizzle, we stood for a good fifteen minutes while I awaited a sign, some communication, anything at all from Joe Meek. This guy was so into the extra terrestrial, certainly he had to know I was there and religiously serious….but disappointingly, nothing happened, so back to the hotel I got reluctantly dragged.

The exact time was the very early morning of November 23, 1988, two days before the Wembley Record Fair, sadly a thing of the past. I recall that date as much of the fair was spent scouring the dealer stalls for Joe Meek related singles, coming home with quite a few, including this ‘A’ label of ‘Questions I Can’t Answer’. As soon as this record hit the turntable, I was addicted.

Search out some Heinz photos, dyed blond hair adding to his nicely twisted look.

Listen: Heart Full Of Sorrow / Heinz
Heart

I began amassing a headful of Heinz trivia and detail, all his singles becoming obsessions. I wasn’t ready for the greatness of ‘Heart Full Of Sorrow’ when I stumbled on a crazy rare US pressing in Dallas. It looked beautiful, almost like new, still shiny. When I finally got home a few days later, it was the first thing I played, recall that bit vividly.

Holy smoke. This production took all of Joe Meek’s techniques and turned them to eleven. It is amongst his very best work. Despite it’s dated sound, all the technology of today’s recording possibilities can’t touch documenting the fear, paranoia and loneliness in Joe Meek’s brain like this can. Classic Joe Meek. Classic Heinz.