I would apologize regarding the comparative skimpiness of this week's set of reviews, but (frankly and TO TELL THE TRUTH in typical Bud Collyer fashion) there really hasn't been much time for me to go through all of the Cee-Dee-Are backlog that's been piling up besides my bed as of the past seven or so earthspins. And besides, I don't apologize anymore ever since John Wayne told me* not to because hey, only LOSERS apologize and don't you just know it. And it's even worse when they apologize without being forced to like I was back when I was a mere suburban post-turdler grade school sap and swiped somebody's cookie or something equally castration-worthy (or at least that's the idea my teachers gave me!). Besides, after all the pushing around I got when I was a kid maybe the people out there should be linin' up to apologize to ME!!!!, but I get the idea that waiting for something this monumental to happen would be like waiting for the next issue of KICKS to wing its way to my mailbox and my lung capacity ain't big enough to hold my breath for any long periods of time.
***RIP film and tee-vee star Martin Milner, who probably kicked bucket bigtime after reading my rather recent review of SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE! I mean...what else? Also adieu to Judy Carne, a gal who I thought was pretty hotcha looking when I'd espy her on LAUGH IN (before that one became strictly verboten in the hovel due to the bodypaint bikini dancing!) though those stories about Burt Reynolds and her sex life (which in her own NATIONAL ENQUIRER-published words turned her "bi"!) really make me cringe. Well, at least that aspect of her life (the "bi" part) probably kept her occupied enough when she was serving time in prison for cocaine back inna eighties, although those stories about Myra Hindley tagging about really are too creepy for words!
***Gotta say that I sure did pick a nice li'l selection regarding what I did have time to spineroothese past seven earth rotations. Again, thanks to the usual suspects like Bill Shute, Paul McGarry and dunno who else (as for PD and Robert Forward, just found some things from ages back buried deep in the labyrinth...will get to them more sooner than later unless I lose 'em again!) who send me more of these silver dollars than I have the time to play given my rather limited schedule. Sure had fun listening to them which is cool, but honest to goodness I think I really would have had more fun had alla ya sent me a few thousand big ones to do what I wanted to with it. But somehow I get the idea you guys ain't that generous!
The post-Wilco Johnson-period Feelgood really didn't jolt me the way they shoulda just the way the post-Feelgood Wilco Johnson output was kinda kitten-purr, but this late-seventies import bin stuffer sure sounds better'n the whole load of whiteguy blooze that's been pounded out for quite a longer time than one can imagine. There's nothing here that tingles me to the bone the way most BLOG TO COMM-approved favorites do, but I gotta admit that there's a drive and pounce to these numbers (including a cover of that NUGGETS fave "Night Time") that sure spews excitement and vigor the way the entire AM/FM "talent" (combined) of the same strata could never to no matter how much lead you poured up their hineys. The live and "outtake" tracks added on at the end do show a certain grasp on the concept of "energy" as well...and to think that alla you suburban slobs were bored outta your minds thinking that all there was was a choice between disco and Christopher Cross when there was a full "Jem" catalog of stuff like this waiting for your approval!
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If Mirjanou Bardot's the original Chris Jagger does that make Noel Harrison the original Gary Lewis? The infamous GIRL FROM U.N.C.L.E. co-star and son of Rex sleepwalks his way through a number of new songs I believe he wrote himself along with some old standbys, and before you get to the second number you get the idea that this entire turdburger was released if only to capitalize on Harrison's name-recognition and not for any particular warbling talent on his part. Speak-song in the Telly Savalas tradition, only in this case you could tell the artist right to his face that this sucks and you won't get beat up. Keep it up Noel, and you'll be back on VIBRATIONS ENCORE faster than you can say "PBS Pledge Break"!
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Nothing special from these Irish retro bluesrockers who are only milking the past umpteen years of mid-sixties revival in new skins the way a few thousand other groups out there have. Now reader, there is nothing here that's offensive or even tiring to the ol' ears, but then again there really isn't anything about LITTLE VICTORIES that stretches the boundaries to the point of breakage. Nor is there that same spark of erotic wonderment that made many a teenage pimplefarm gather soda pop bottles to exchange for cash so that he could scarf up some yellow vinyl Stiff Records single because the guys on the cover looked just the way he wished he could! Even their version of "Kick Out The Jams" (with new woids) can't save the overall mid-teens plainness of it all.
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ALAN GERBER ALBUM CD-r burn (originally on Shelter)I don't care if this guy was in Rhinoceros (in fact, I don't particularly care for what little I've heard of Rhinoceros myself but that's another post), this album is pretty bland in that early-seventies singer/songwriter way. And (even though you didn't ask) that comes complete with the standard stabs at country 'n blooze styles that still conjures up memories of gals in headbands and bell bottoms who had that "oh yeah?" tone in their voice. For those of you readers who think that Leon Russell, J. J. Cale and the rest of the Shelter label were just too raucous for their good timey tastes, this is for you.. Speaking of Shelter, was there ever a lawsuit over the label's original logo featuring the copyrighted Superman symbol placed upon the familiar egg which soon became but a simple scrawl? Given National's litigious nature I would certainly think so!
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Rincon Surfside Band-THE SURFING SONG BOOK CD-r burn (originally on Dunhill)Notsobad surf cash in featuring "Eve of Destruction" and "It Ain't Me" author P.F. Sloan along with partner in surf Steve Barri cranking the cheapie covers out with (seemingly) relative ease. Kinda part instrumental with the vocals kept to the mere basics, this one's custom made for the bedroom gremmie to chant along to without the fear of being caught by the meaner kids in class. Competent covers actually do come closer to the originals than those Lou Reed crankouts for Pickwick did as if competency meant anything in the real rock 'n roll world, but at least this time it counts.
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Here's the last platter from my recent Norton order to get the royal BTC treatment, yet another collection of rare Bobby Fuller and somehow related sides that once again fits in swell with that Bobby Fuller bio I blabbed about awhile back. The early Fuller sides once again deliver on that pre-Beatle punch that I like outta alla those early locally-produced singles that definitely took the garage aesthetic a few notches in the right direction (I particularly like Fuller's "Say Honey" which showcases a particularly treble-y sound that was so prevalent in those pre-bass guitar days), while the singles recorded for Fuller's Eastwood and Exeter labels all have that cool knotty pine feeling that really brings forth alla that power and might to be found in an instrumental recorded by mid-teens who had only a basic idea of how to handle their gear. Yet another winner even though I can't gauge exactly where you readers are coming from anymore and whether or not you care for this particular cup of brew. But then again, so what!.
***
Bill certainly was in a jovial mood when he slapped this 'un together what with more of those legendary "apple gunkies" commercials 'n all. For mid-sixties satire these certainly do rate better'n some of the "other" lame stabs at humor that were going around then (I mean, how many jokes can you make about the good looks of Lady Bird Johnson anyway?) and if you like reading those old issues of MAD and HELP! these might fit in with your sense of hummus rather well.
The music enclosed ain't that bad either, if you're looking for a good cheap imitation of the real deal. The Mystic Five do a fair enough moody New England-styled rock downer true, but whoever THAT ENGLISH SOUND were I KNOW they were aiming for the Aunt Flabbies and Uncle Ferds of this world on the lookout for Christmas presents for their adolescent Beatlewigged nephews! Really, anybody who thought that tracks like "You Make the Decisions" sounded remotely beat would have to be charter members of the Jan Garber fan club! The entire album ain't here, but I will say that at least the Beatles attempts were halfway good for a buncha studio guys who perhaps preferred to remain anonymous. But overall this record sounds more East Liverpool Ohio than the place o'er in Limeyland to me!
At least the Questionaires have a better handle on their suburban slobness with competent covers of the Cryan' Shames, Blues Magoos and the Animals via. John Lee Hooker, all done up on a scratchy low-fi platter that sounds lilke it was recorded in one of those "Record Your Voice" booths. Good enough but in a "Sorry Charlie" sorta way. I wouldn't mind knowing more about this band but then again, maybe not. Who knows, the bass guitarist might have been that old geezer I flipped off at the supermarket yesterday.
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*...and I've told you a millyun times!
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