THIS BLOG IS ABOUT 7" RECORDS ONLY. YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY. EVERY SONG IS CONVERTED TO MP3 FROM MY PERSONAL 45 COLLECTION, AND THERE'S NOT ONE THAT I WOULDN'T RECOMMEND YOU SEEKING OUT. ANY COPYRIGHT HOLDERS WHO DON'T WANT THEIR MUSIC HEARD HERE JUST LET ME KNOW, AND DOWN IT WILL COME. CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE.
Listen: The Johnny Otis Hand Jive / The Johnny Otis Show The
Later issued as the more familiar ‘Wille And The Hand Jive’, whatever that’s meant to mean, this original pressing went by ‘The Johnny Otis Hand Jive’. Either way, it wasn’t until many years later did I realize where the blueprint for The Strangeloves sound originated. And that’s okay, both have co-existed just fine in the record collection.
I think this was known as race music in it’s day, despite Johnny Otis himself being a white guy. Greek to be exact. Quite a compliment then.
Listen: The Watts Breakaway / The Johnny Otis Show The
Seems The Johnny Otis Show’s sell by date had past by ’69, when their only Okeh release, ‘The Watts Breakaway’ hit a small smattering of record store shelves that summer. Despite fun filled lyrics like “I’m the duckin-est dodgin-est, dancin-est cat you ever knew”, the single’s theme, a new dance, was most likely considered dreadfully out of step with the times, relegating it to our favorite place in record colletordom, a flop and hard to find.
Turning up this seemingly factory fresh copy, with it’s sparking new and unblemished Okeh stock sleeve, in a $1 box full of 80′s hits was terribly baffling. How did it get there? And where are all the other records it’s been coexisting with for around four decades? Never content I guess.
Admittedly, it’s rude to keep pounding $1 finds, but let me advise you all, finding 60′s and 70′s soul, jazz and RnB 7″ valuables laughably underpriced at hipster indie rock shops is a miracle that still exists in real time. That’s all I’m saying.
Seems I’ve heard the first white act of Motown claim many times. History dictates though that The Valadiers indeed take home that honor, if you can call it that. You’d have to look pretty hard to find a more hated release amongst the diehards that follow all things Motown.
One of their biggest gripes focuses on the single’s UK release via Oriole, Britain’s first ever record company, which by the mid 60′s was the Detroit label’s exclusive outlet. Seems there were many terribly more deserving records that didn’t luck into a UK release, and given the dated doo woo pop of ‘I Found A Girl’, this just drove the devoted bonkers. The hate still spews on some hard corp Motown blogs.
I always kind of liked this though. Never did experience doo woo first time through, way too young if even born, and have never been interested enough to figure that out. Closest I come is Ruben & The Jets first album, where Frank Zappa, as on several songs by The Mothers Of Invention, does a spotless send up. So quite possibly my references for comparison are titled terribly in the wrong direction. Whatever.
Hard to disagree that ‘I Found A Girl’ certainly sits okay next to some same period releases by The Marvelettes and The Miracles. As with those Oriole issued copies and in fact, all nineteen released during their partnership, they are amongst the most valuable English Motown pressings ever.
Listen: Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes / Kevin Ayers Stranger
Although never quite as excited when older songs would re-grace a 7″ based on reissue packages, this was an exception. Not as common these days, but in the 70′s, several bands found a stronger footing a bit down the career road. At the time, the periods between original and repackage felt like generations, but in hindsight they were only a few short years.
In the case of Kevin Ayers & The Whole World, the band’s third single, ‘Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes’ / ‘Star’ was originally released as Harvest 5042 in early ’71. Fast forward five years and ‘Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes’, a featured track on ODD DITTIES, a hitless greatest hits type compilation loosely celebrating his return to the Harvest label after a few singles and albums for Island, graces the market to promote the project.
By now the label copy was only crediting Kevin Ayers, and his credibility high via associations with John Cale and Nico. Thread in The Velvet Underground and all the punks immediately respect you. Boom. Plan.
Thing was, the appreciation was more than justified. He and his band made four nearly flawless albums for Harvest initially. And so his return to the label and promise of greatness to come was plenty of reason to tell the world of brand new ears all about his catalog highlights. I couldn’t get my hands on this 7″ fast enough.
Listen: Fake Mexican Tourist Blues / Kevin Ayers Fake
In those days, you often knew only of a UK single’s existence and one would anxiously await the post to turn up with that special ordered copy, or a local import shop may stock a few. They usually catered to albums as opposed to 7′s though. And no one but me was buying a Kevin Ayers single, hence the special order process necessity.
Well I was thrilled when this one arrived. The real charge being being the B side ‘Fake Mexican Tourist Blues’. Known amongst his rabid followers, like me, as a must hear unreleased track from his WHATEVERSHEBRINGSWESING album sessions, you could say the five year wait was worth it. Lyrically hysterical, almost faux reggae. Expect the unexpected from Kevin Ayers every time and you won’t be let down.
Into the double sider hall of fame this one went forever.
Listen: Three In One / Scratch & The Upsetters Three
Went through a pretty intense eBay trolling this Sunday. My Father’s Day present was to do whatever I pleased, with no pressure of attending to weekend chores and such. Therefore I became perfectly content settling into my storage garage, digging through boxes and doing some online record shopping. All the while being treated to a non stop supply of my favorite homemade food. A perfect day.
Except of course for all the stress brought on by hundreds of demos and dj pressings currently engulfing eBay. Several seriously hard to find items ended their auctions today and I was not a frequent winner. Some guy outbid my by one penny, no lie one penny, for the Joyce Bond SOUL AND SKA album. This was an original pink Island beauty. My top bid being £109.99. The bleeding thing sold for £110.00.
The one record that crushed me though was Scratch & The Upsetters’ 7″ of ‘Three In One’ from SUPER APE. You just do not see it on eBay. Not ever. Not until now. I’ve had this particular single on an automatic eBay search for years, and finally today there came a notification alert to my inbox. A copy had just listed with a 99p starting price. Could this moment truly be happening!?!
My world fell down upon clicking through to the listing. Disaster. The record’s center had been punched out. Fewer things can deflate my interest in a UK single more than this. I was devastated. Stared at the page for two or three minutes contemplating and then trying to justify a possible purchase. I’d deem it a starter copy only, which could always go straight to the jukebox. How will I pass this up? But, ultimately I decided against going for it.
Several hours later, when checking on my Lee Perry 7′s, just to make sure they were all safe on the shelf, I realized I had ‘Three In One’ this whole time.
It was like a miracle occurred before my eyes, given there isn’t a molecule of recollection about ever acquiring this copy. No idea where it originated from. Not a clue as to how long it’s been there either. Regardless, with all good stories there comes a happy ending. And this was officially a good story.
As Corinne said about my particular circumstance, “What a mitzvah”.
It would probably be unfair to suggest Neil Young lifted the idea of this song from Doug Kershaw’s ‘Louisiana Man’, so let’s just say it was a rather obvious influence, possibly a result of Bobbie Gentry’s supreme version which was released a little earlier. Her’s is one of over eight hundred in fact.
Or maybe the song was simply due to Neil Young’s genuine knowledge of cajun music. Regardless, discovering ‘Dance, Dance. Dance’ when released was fascinating. The record really is a great one.
Not surprisingly then, the first Crazy Horse album, possibly a perfect production by Jack Nitzsche and Bruce Botnick, was full of top songs, including several singles, like this UK only one.
Somehow, all the 45′s from the band’s first album mingled nicely with a bunch of others in my collection, mostly English stuff, and my positive opinion of it prevailed despite a general disinterest for the west coast’s growing soft rock sound. Yeah, there’s just something I love about this thick UK promo pressing.
One of many records proving my lack of instinct when it came to picking songs that could blow up mainstream. ‘So Long’ was a no brainer, I’d thought. A few listens, and the world was going to find their new anthem. Seriously, I didn’t have a doubt.
‘So Long’ came into my head on Monday, overhearing the slogan during Duane’s birthday dinner at Benny’s Burritos. As NEW YORK MAGAZINE describes it, the restaurant serves grub not food, emerging one into a world of pink walls, lava lamps, and 60s artifacts. Who can resist and consequently, been eating here since the 80′s, dependable and maybe even better than ever. An additional bonus, the corner location with it’s large open windows doubles perfectly as a panoramic, non stop visual of every nut in New York, while they strut their eccentricities proudly along Avenue A.
So when overhearing the old school exchange of “so long”, the Fischer-Z track popped instantly into my head. And to be perfectly honest, had me immediately sitting straight up, slightly concerned I’d not seen the record in ages. No worries, there it was on the shelf back home a few hours later.
Roger and I played this religiously back in 1980, and all things stopped from it’s very first note, consistently anticipating the subtle production dub splash on the snare at 4:45. That was the song’s payoff to us, and we’d laugh with joy every single time we played it. Nice memory that.
Not only did Mickie Most have probably the greatest name ever, he was unmatched as a record producer for many years. Listen to the way he weaves and mixes the instruments on Donovan’s ‘Sunshine Superman’ or how he recaptures Joe Meek’s haunting, other worldliness on Kim Wilde’s ‘Kids In America’. The story of his life and his list of production achievements is fascinating.
A consistently under mentioned work for him seems to be The Vibrators ‘We Vibrate’. Released on his RAK Records imprint, as with most of the label’s product, he produced. 100% devoid of studio polish, instead the value of how this single was recorded and approached is all about their stage sound. It’s easy to see how this early punk record was a direct descendant of The Arrows and Suzi Quatro before them, both on RAK and both his productions. The band sounded exactly like this live. I know, Corinne and I got to see them at Dingwall’s in early ’77. I want to say Chris Spedding was on stage, but honestly can’t recall.
They were about to sign with Epic and make a great debut album, apparently their RAK deal being only a one off 7″. Their followup single and first for the new label, ‘Baby Baby’ / ‘Into The Future’ came really close, but somehow didn’t quite surpass ‘We Vibrate’.
As unlikely as it gets in today’s world, Amoeba Music seems to be surviving, doing well even, despite basing a majority of their floor space to cd’s. I just pray I’m right. Last week’s Los Angeles visit meant several stops to their Sunset Blvd location. Unfocused on my bearings upon arrival, it was only when walking a block south from the hotel did I discover the store one further block west on Sunset. Miracle.
One of the location’s many highs includes the close proximity Amoeba’s 7″ department has to the front store windows, whereby you can literally browse singles and simultaneously watch the world go by along the fabulous Sunset Strip, as it’s referred to. In a car with friends, I’ll generally keep my mouth shut when it comes to spouting out landmarks along the patch between Doheny Road and the 101. Landmarks being where the various record companies and publishers housed themselves in the 60′s and 70′s. Other than me, nobody cares. But standing at the 45 rack in Amoeba while gazing left out the window, I could literally see the location of Phil Spector’s Philles offices just across the street, one block away. Yikes.
Right place, right time. A stocking clerk was busying himself away at the sorting table next to me and preparing to toss a small stack of jukebox tabs apparently found inside several of the newly acquired 7′s when I intervened.
“Take whatever you want” was the reply.
Now was this a dreadful oversight in the works or an attempt at intensely super serving one’s customers? I’m not really sure. But you only need to invite me once. I rescued the lot.
Given my geographic location on earth that very moment, what better example of the bunch than this? A whole sheet for John Phillips ‘Mississippi’ single, unscathed.
Despite a very out of place image and dreadful band name during The Mamas & The Papas’ successful patch, his songs were truly remarkable. John Phillips never lost his ability for a great one despite all the personal dramas and traumas. Just before his move to London in the early 70′s, what should have been the beginning of a successful solo career launched with ‘Mississippi’, a US #33 single. Seems the album JOHN, THE WOLF KING OF L.A., was a flop and off into a multi-millionaire’s drug jungle he went. Sounds like fun to me.
Turns out my tastes were always partial toward Joe South.
WNDR was playing ‘Birds Of A Feather’ upon release, and my then close friend/next door neighbor had bought a copy. The record became a regular after school spin for ages. We’d load up on candy and chips, sodas, then converge on his parent’s house from about 3 to 5pm daily. The place became a juvenile hangout for our clique, basically young aspiring record fanatics searching for their first high. Seriously, we’d mix Coca-Cola and aspirin with drips of alcohol from his parents liquor cabinet trying hard for a buzz, always to no avail. We couldn’t risk his folks noticing the slowly depleting bottles, hence the required rationing. Certain singles, like Joe South’s, made up our soundtrack.
Joe South, in hindsight, had also written Billy Joe Royal’s ‘Down In The Boondocks’, a very early memory from winter ’65. Great song, and personally an easy one to identify with. Being banished to small town upstate New York, pining to live in a big, big city full of deeply stocked record stores was my apparent fate. A little boy presumably sentenced to life in said boondocks.
I would argue that Joe South’s songs and especially his singles collectively inspired many an Americana music band, not only US but also British. The Flying Burrito Brothers and Sea Train from here or Brinsley Schwarz and Heads, Hands & Feet from there come to mind. It’s my instinct at least. Joe South seems to be the one guy forever overlooked when the media instead busies itself siting Johnny Cash, Hank Williams or The Band as the catalysts.
The lack of airplay ‘All Or Nothing’ was afforded upon release in the US goes down as one of the great crimes in our country’s history. It was shocking at the time.
BILLBOARD’s 9/17/66 issue featured the full page RCA industry ad above, not only promoting the single, but also the label’s signing of The Small Faces. Their previous releases had been issued by London Records’ imprint, Press. Of the three, only ‘Sha La La La Lee’ managed a smattering of play, primarily Sacramento (KXOA), San Bernardino (KFXM) and Miami (WFUN) of all, seemingly unsuspecting, places.
A big indicator of RCA’s commitment was reflected in the custom picture sleeve which accompanied ‘All Or Nothing’, also profiled in the aforementioned print ad. I can still feel the jolt my body took upon opening to that page during a Friday evening at Smith’s Records in Oneida, NY, a weekly stop to pour over the store’s current issue.
Unbeknown to us all, Mrs. Smith contributed incredibly toward my formative years of becoming an avid music fan and record collector. Not only did she allow me to monopolize the magazine at the counter, she gave me her expired copies and most patiently wrote down my weekly special order choices as I’d scour the Singles Review page of the magazine.
BILLBOARD broke down most newly issued records into their editorially predicted sections: Top 20, Top 60 or the kiss of death Chart categories. Not surprisingly, many of music history’s classic releases began their painful cult status wallowing in that lonely Chart section, records tipped to scrape into the Hot 100′s lower reaches at best.
In the very same issue, and despite the lucrative ad buy, BILLBOARD drove a nail through the record’s heart with a Chart verdict, surprising given the label’s full page print buy. Mind you, this section was highly influential at the time.
More importantly, did the person or persons responsible for this damnation even listen to it? How on earth do you toss aside Steve Marriott’s unsurpassable vocal? Not only acknowledged as possibly the 60′s greatest white soul singer, his collaborative first division songwriting with Ronnie Lane stamped ‘All Or Nothing’ as one of the undeniably legendary singles from the period. How could a BILLBOARD employee, or more frighteningly their staff, not spot this?
Mrs. Smith never did get my special order for the record fulfilled, and as a result, I innocently passed up the only copy I ever saw when current at my other haunt, Walt’s Records in Syracuse. For true, it was a hard and painful moment that. With only one dollar in my pocket, the default purchase choice became ‘I’m A Boy’ by The Who, fingers crossed firmly my special order for ‘All Or Nothing’ was on it’s way. Wrong.
But all things happen for a reason. During the 70′s, the search for records pre-Ebay was via GOLDMINE’s classifieds. Religiously I would scour the magazine upon arrival. Literally, all things would stop. The process took hot line style priority status. So finally, a copy of ‘All Or Nothing’ in the sleeve was listed by a Texas dealer. I called him immediately, usurped the auction and closed the sale early. To my extreme luck, and possibly as karmic blessing, a sheet of the below factory jukebox tabs was inside the sleeve:
“Oh great joy”, to quote a line from OGDEN’S NUT GONE FLAKE.
The walking bass lines throughout ‘Tightrope’ and the song’s lyric “Walk that tightrope baby” seem intentionally aligned. Is it coincidental? Is it just me?
One thing for sure, I can never praise Inez & Charlie Foxx enough. Helplessly in love with her I have always been. Given the obscurely obscure reach of youtube, how the fuck is it possible not one clip of the dynamic duo, as they’ve always and justifiably been tagged, exists?
Shouldn’t there be an international campaign to change that?
In New York, a tropical rain soaked day during May is perfect excuse to draw the blinds, switch on the a/c and unbox some singles that need filing.
During the late 90′s, many of us in the Columbia A&R department got weekly shipments from the UK office containing all the latest releases. Unlike everyone else, my preferred configuration was vinyl. So like clockwork, as soon as a couple of twenty five count 7″ boxes were full, I’d UPS them home. Just as routinely, upon arrival, into the black hole of storage they went. On special occasions, like today, out come several and the surprises begin.
The things I find are wild. Where the hell did this or that come from usually being my reaction.
I hadn’t ever recalled getting ‘Crispy Bacon’ on a 7″ or that one existed. I’m surprised it didn’t come home day-of as most real favorites did. And man, did I love this record. Even if you only visited the UK or Europe during the single’s Fall ’97 heyday, you couldn’t miss it. Seems this was played everywhere. A record so simple and stripped back, I found it impossible to tire of. Earlier today, having not heard ‘Crispy Bacon’ for ages, we slapped it onto my trusty Dual with it’s automatic repeat function and barely noticed the song’s five minute length had passed, playing it over and over, a good twenty times.
Laurent Garnier triple billed with Ken Ishii and LTJ Bukem in Belgium at the time. Columbia sent me over to have a look, as Ken Ishii was a Sony Japan act looking for a US label. What a fantastic night that was.
The mere concept that Bobbie Graham, aka Bobby Graham, played drums on an estimated fifteen thousand singles is mind boggling. Seriously, we probably don’t have time in our remaining years to listen to them all, not to mention the hours it took to record them. His discography, lifted from the official website, is frustratingly short. This abridged version is possibly a good thing though. As with the various drug warnings on television nowadays, the entire song list may cause convulsions or death.
In ’64, Bobbie Graham’s session work with The Pretty Things resulted in him becoming their producer, apparently Fontana’s various in-house staff not having a grasp for the job. A&R manager Jack Baverstock had the good sense to sign him as an artist, issue a few singles, he having recently appeared in a spectacular segment of the film GONKS GO BEAT, playing the blue kit and dressed in a matching blue shirt:
Preceding the film’s release, ‘Skin Deep’ was in the stores. Possibly viewed as a corporate attempt at capitalizing on the beat group sound of the day, it’s bombastic production teeters on overkill and surf all at once. In hindsight, you can’t find a better snapshot of the colorful period.
Unlike most throwaway B sides, this one was clearly planned. A co-write between Bobbie Graham and Jimmy Page, ‘Zoom, Widge And Wag’ calculated the access they’d have to a full orchestra while in the studio recording ‘Skin Deep’. Released in January of ’65 meant ‘Zoom, Widge And Wag’ was clearly recorded in ’64, during which time the pair were professionally the most sought after studio team around London. Other than Big Jim Sullivan, it was Little Jim as Jimmy Page was known, who played on just about as many singles as Bobbie Graham.
‘Zoom, Widge And Wag’ spills into surf in my twisted head, not unlike it’s A side. It’s great to think back to a time when instrumentals were positioned into the mainstream. Not until electronic music became Top 40 during the late 90′s, and then in the UK and Europe, did the trend begin to resurface. The US, usually twenty years and five hours behind England when it comes to the radio, is just now surrendering to instrumental dance hits on daytime broadcasts. US programmers. What a bunch of boobs.
Tis the season to celebrate a birthday. SO MANY RECORDS SO LITTLE TIME is four years old, and as with the blog’s very first entry, each year I re-post one of the greatest records ever made, and the one that premiered this whole hobby: The Ikettes ‘ What’cha Gonna Do’.
Listen: When The Sun Comes Shining Thru’ / Long John Baldry When
Long John Baldry, as with Georgie Fame and Alan Price, was another guy from the early 60′s London blues and soul club circuit. Then known as Long John Baldry & The Hoochie Coochie Men, he and his band can be found on numerous schedules from The Flamingo and The Marquee clubs, double billing with several similar up and coming American RnB music enthusiasts, all hell bent on reinterpreting their worshiped heroes.
Like with yesterday’s post, he too took a more commercial route as the 70′s approached, successfully achieving mainstream pop hits in England. A switch of labels in both the UK and US, as well a change in musical style and the recruitment of Tony Macaulay as producer resulted in ‘Let The Heartaches Begin’, which went to #1 in Britain during November of ’67. A year later, ‘When The Sun Comes Shining Thru”, written by Manfred Mann’s lead vocalist Mike D’Abo, went Top 30, although neither caught much traction in America.
Around ’68, Tony Macaulay began cornering many of my favorite records, either as writer, producer and in some cases, both. Current day British pop had become his forte with Scott Walker, Pickettywitch, The Marmalade and The Foundations amongst his successes. I guess he had a sound, and quite frankly, in my world, these two were a perfect pair.
Come ’71 though, Long John Baldry had reverted back to his original boogie woogie style, as he called it. Teaming up with Elton John and Rod Stewart as producers, both struggling newcomers in the early 60′s but by then successful superstars, afforded their old friend some decent US traction. Good for John Baldry of course, but for me, the music wasn’t as much fun nor more memorable than that period anchored by Tony Macaulay and ‘When The Sun Comes Shining Thru”.
By the time these two guys teamed up, they’d outgrown their hardcore, grimy beginnings, especially having to play the late, late, late night white blues and soul clubs that typified 60′s Mod. Georgie Fame & The Blue Flames and The Alan Price Set respectively had done their time in the all-nighter trenches of London’s Flamingo, and other even nastier spots around the UK. Miraculously, even though they were having mainstream hit singles, their labels allowed both to record what each clearly preferred, jazz funk and RnB.
But I guess hits meant tasting success and some money, so by the early 70′s, both Georgie Fame and Alan Price were involved with televsion, films and soundtracks. Somewhere in that mix, a suggested musical partnering reflecting their apparent camaraderie actually took way.
Great plan. Their voices sounded superb together, and the first single released as Fame And Price, Price And Fame Together landed them a #11 UK hit in ’71.
Fuck was I pissed ‘Rosetta’ never got airplay in America. Initially, the single was included in a pile gotten off Harry Fagenbaum, the Syracuse University college radio rep for Warner Brothers. Despite Harry being another Anglophile, he hardly mentioned it. Supposedly, this record was just too adult and schmaltz for him. He wrongly assumed I would agree.
Can recall vividly returning home that Sunday evening, having spent the day trolling the SU campus record shops, then hanging out at Harry’s dorm, listening to The Pretty Things GET THE PICTURE album. Seriously, we played it at least twice, as I still hadn’t scored my copy. That was a damn hard one to get even in ’71. Imports were starting to become more common, but not older titles. So I’d always run straight for it in his wall shelf.
I remember him trying to edge in Ron Nagle’s BAD RICE album, and Deep Purple’s ‘Strange Kind Of Woman’ 7″, both of which he’d just given me. My logic was to promise I’d listen once home, but in the meantime, let’s hear The Pretty Things. And I did check those out that night, as well John & Beverly Martyn’s ‘Primrose Hill’, yet it was ‘Rosetta’ that hands down stole the thunder.
Luscious Jackson never did manage to spin their wheels beyond the college market for very long.
Oh yes, the good old college market as it was once known. You don’t hear that tag being sold much these days, which clearly coincides with college radio’s withered presence. The format was always an interesting free for all when it came to musical selection, but the consistent requirement to allow untrained students airtime meant ultimately, those amateur deliveries put most listeners off. Only the die hards could withstand the dead air and weak back sells in exchange for hearing something different.
‘Naked Eye’ became Luscious Jackson’s temporary out of jail free card, gaining enough play to reach #36 on BILLBOARD’s Top 100. Despite name producers and an old school record label, their homemade, amateur sound was never lost. In fact, as with ‘Naked Eye’, they didn’t really sounded like a group were playing together at all. Despite their attempts at rap coming closer to a suburban high school band than some street toughs from New York’s Lower East Side, their squeaky clean middle class take on Prince basically boiled down to reheated Waitresses, but it kinda worked, and I always found myself fond of their singles.
GNP Crescendo not only possessed a great label name, turns out they were one of the small indies with enough taste to issue several of their singles in quality color picture sleeves. Biggest sellers, The Seeds, certainly benefitted most.
Not unlike London’s maraca drenched blues knockoffs epitomized the English sound, The Seeds ruled roost as to what life sounded like in L.A., at least to a little kid growing up in small town New York State.
Never did I hear The Seeds on daytime radio when current, but certainly heard them at night. Whether by choice or reality, my recollection associates the band with summertime ’67, when The Seeds original debut single, ‘Can’t Seem To Make You Mine’ got re-released. Yes, late night, warm weather airplay, when the AM Top 40′s went all underground rock in the evenings. Those non hits by Lothar & The Hand People, Big Brother & The Holding Company, The Leaves and Country Joe & The Fish rubbed shoulders with The Seeds on every nighttime playlist that summer, both locally and as far off as WBZ from Boston and WOWO in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The band’s interest was peaking, certainly in the world of radio. Depending on the market, each were playing The Seeds, whether it being ‘Mr. Farmer’, ‘Pushin’ Too Hard’, their latest, most psychedelic record yet, ‘A Thousand Shadows’ or ‘Can’t Seem To Make You Mine’.
Just imagine this intro beaming through my transistor for the first time. I tell you in all honesty, the memory is as plain as day. It, and the song, were one listens. I desperately needed the record on the spot.
Praise be, the thrill of finding it in my weekly pile of airplay rejects from WMCR that very Friday. Yet another single which didn’t fit into their adult, easy listening format, much to my miraculous luck.
Pianist Daryl Hooper, already carving the initial model of playing bass on a separate keyboard, not only dominated the overall sound of The Seeds, he also wrote some of their most powerful hooks, all based on simplicity. In my fantasy world, that break in ‘Can’t Seem To Make You Mine’ soundtracked driving through the desert by night, heading into the creepy unknown, speeding west on Route 66, just like The Doors long keyboard middle in ‘Light My Fire’. Hearing both for the first time, late on hot summer nights, clearly left deep impressions.
Recorded and produced by Norman Petty in his Clovis, New Mexico studio, ‘Sugartime’ became Charlie Phillips’ debut release as Coral 61908, on the original B side, to be precise. The record’s origins are fascinating, especially the bit about turning up to find Buddy Holly & The Crickets had been booked as the backing band. Themselves newly successful to the charts, the guys were still earning fees playing on Norman Petty’s many studio sessions in ’56, when this was recorded. Norman Petty’s list of credits, as well the studio’s, are stunning.
Soon after ‘Sugartime’ scaled the US Country charts, Petty suggested Coral get the song covered, then release it to the pop audience. The label’s Bob Thiele brought in The McGuire Sisters, whose version (Coral 61924) was issued in short order, immediately entering BILLBOARD’s Hot 100, within weeks hitting #1 during Spring ’57.
This original, with an authentic hillbilly delivery as it was called, has the eerie ability to embody my fantasy of how AM rockabilly radio sounded in rural Texas during the mid-50′s. If only we had the means to time travel back and dig through piles of disc jockey records jammed into the cupboards of any audition studio at just one of those long gone broadcast buildings.
Alan McGee had invited me down to an early My Bloody Valentine show at London’s ULU during February ’89, just after he’d signed the band to Creation. Seemed like every time I’d get back from the UK, there’d be a good reason to return straight away. New groups literally materialized overnight. It was a dream come true for an A&R rep with a frequent flyer miles addiction.
I timed this visit to take in the latest media invented genre, shoegazing, with My Bloody Valentine being crowned the apparent rulers. I do wish I could recall who else was on the bill that night. I want to say Silverfish and Spiritualized. Regardless, the whole thing was dead boring. Not a flipping song in sight the entire evening. Then and there, I never saw the point of this appropriately described genre. Dreadful stuff.
But fast forward a full year and a half. ‘Soon’ is the band’s new single, one of those records you hadn’t heard of when you left New York, but was everywhere upon arrival in pre-internet July ’90. Gary Crowley played me it that first afternoon. It was even on the car radio when we left his apartment. Just about every office at Island seemed to be blasting it the next day, each attempting to out hip the other. ‘Soon’ was most definitely my soundtrack to that visit.
The following winter, the band played the new Ritz in New York. By then, the club had moved uptown to 54th Street. Although most of the magic the original place had was now gone, there were still plenty of great shows. Both Jane’s Addiction and The Red Hot Chili Peppers peaked their club band periods on that stage, Primal Scream did SCREAMADELICA, the return of the original Damned and Buzzcocks happened there, The Charlatans made their US premier, Ministry playing behind a chain linked fence, daring audience members dove into the mosh pit below from the second floor balcony during The Ramones’ two nights in February ’90 and a jungle red latex clad Lux Interior drank wine from a stray hightop sneaker shot onto the stage during The Cramps LOOK MOM NO HEAD show.
So the opportunity was set for My Bloody Valentine to prove their worth, become royalty, leave a most historical stamp on the moment, the way ‘Soon’ had and has. With intense crowd angst, the band came on to a visual storm of dry ice, saturated red and purple pulsing strobes and seriously tore into ‘Soon’. For a minute or so, the shrill and volume felt painfully positive, but the intensity of high end squeals and attempted white noise was unbearable. Ears were covered, the crowd physically gasping, it was relentless, horrible, unlistenable. Confused and tortured, many, and I do mean many, hit the exits. We tried, we wanted it to be as powerful as ‘Soon’ but we were defeated too, avoiding the surge for refunds at the box office window on the way out. This wasn’t art, it was insult.
