Screechy, Eerie Space-Age Pop: Kai Winding's Magical Double-Header

Kenny Burrell is nowhere to be found here.

Joe Meek top-ped global pop charts with his song and pro-duction "Tel-star," a stately number recor-ded by The Tornados for UK Decca Records.

  The sound of "Telstar" had a wave of influ-ence that held on well into the 1960s, even after the British beat groups, with their ac-cent on docu-mentary-style recordings of raw rock 'n' roll, comandeered American ears from 1964.

   By 1963, when the first of today's two LPs hit the shelves, that almost disco-style percussion, coupled with piping, piercing electronic keyboard sounds, was being copied, and Meek's productions analyzed--how in the heck did he come up with those sounds?

  Others tried to emulate Meek's sound, often with comical effect. One remarkably good Meek imitation is on a record by singer Louise Cordet, "Lovin' Baby." The record was written and produced by Tony Meehan, ex-member of The Shadows who partnered with Jet Harris on a series of post-Shads instrumental hits in the UK.

  One of the best American manifestations of the "Telstar" sound was spread over two LPs by big band trombonist Kai Winding. He recorded an Italian song called "More," theme to a documentary film smash called Mondo Cane, using the Ondioline, a cousin of the electronic keyboard heard on Joe Meek's recordings. Playing the instrument was its acknowledged master, Jean-Jacques Perrey, who was in New York attempting to find success as a musician and composer. 

   Due to some contractual shenanigans, Perrey was not given credit anywhere on the single or its resultant album. And Kenny Burrell? Phfft! The jazz guitarist wasn't in the studio at all during these sessions. The guitar work was headed by Vincent Bell, a stalwart of the New York studio scene whose distinctive six-string sounds and effects pedals made him an American cousin of Joe Meek, kinda-sorta.

   

Just a trifle Beatley.

   Two grand albums resul-ted--both here for your listen-ing pleasure today. I'm not sure if Perrey and Bell were aboard for Mon-do Cane #2, the 1964 fol-ow-up. The On-dioline is all over this se-quel, and gui-tars are upfront a good deal of the time.

    The second album reflects the influence of The Beatles, who had thunderstruck the States by this time. "Till"'s intro riff is a theft of the Fab Four's "Please Please Me" (which, in turn, was pilfered from a Carl Perkins song, "Lend Me Your Comb," which was written by a trio of Tin Pan Alley cleffers for the 1957 rock-exploitation film Jamboree. So now you know...)

   Both albums have a tasty mix of originals and cover versions of familiar easy-listening or instrumental fare. Some of the originals are very obvious "Telstar" rewrites, which would not have pleased Joe Meek, if he ever heard them.

  The second album has a wider variety of Ondioline sounds. Check out the throaty tones of "Python," coupled with some choice twangy electric guitar. There's much to like across the board. This is some of my favorite "work music." Great to write to, great to draw to... I imagine it would make dish-washing enjoyable. Enjoy it as you wish.

MORE is HERE... MONDO CANE #2 is HERE.

Otis Blackwell Volume Three: 28 Songs You've Probably Never Heard

Many years ago, I put together the first two volumes of Otis Blackwell compositions (both which are still available elsewhere on this blog).

I knew that, eventually, I'd get around to putting together another volume. Eight years passed, and with it much personal drama, illness and huge life changes. But I never forget my back-of-the-mind goal to get this set together.

Despite the host of big names you see at the left, I'll bet you a dollar to a doughnut you've never heard one single song on this compilation. Almost none of these songs were hits in their day. Many were stuck on the B-sides of singles, or were flops on the music marketplace when new.

50 or 60 years later, what didn't pass muster back in the day sounds pretty damned wonderful now. As I mention in the extensive liner notes I've drafted for this set, not every song here is a masterpiece, but all have their charm, and certain ones are guaranteed to knock your footwear off and become your new favorites.

I'm in recovery from my second go-round with non-Hodgkins' lymphoma. In April, I had a stem cell transplant and spent 20 days in the hospital. During this recovery time, I can't work and have a LOT of time on my hands. Thus, I decided to create an honest-to-gosh booklet for this compilation, as if it were a real CD.

This is my version of fantasy football--putting songs together for the sake of the music. If I attempted to do this disc for real, I'd be looking at dealing with massive corporations like Universal Media, and having to shell out thousands in licensing fees for old obscure songs the current holders could care less about. So much music from this period is trapped in this snare. 

This put a bit of a damper on the one legit CD project I've created, Ace Records' P. F. Sloan/Steve Barri compilation, which came out back in 2010. Many tracks I wanted were too expensive to license, and we had to make do with some sub-par recordings to take the place of those unattainables. I'm happy with that CD, overall, but wish that two or three blah tracks weren't on there. Oh well.

HERE are the 28 songs; HERE is the booklet and CD tray. If you're so inspired, print out the booklet and tray and mock up an old-school CD for your music shelf. But do listen to the music. "Stick Close" by Estelle Brown will brighten your day immensely, and I dare you not to tap your foot to Johnny Thunder's "Am I Right or Am I Wrong."

Since I wrote about each song in the liner notes, I'll cap this post and let it go. Hope you enjoy this compilation. And who knows--I may do another post here soon!

Alternate download link for this set HERE.

Don Gibson's 50 Best Songs: One of the Great Bodies of American Popular Music (re-upped 6/18)

This is another home-brew compilation, with songs in chronological order, going from 1954 to 1969. This was perhaps country music's most fertile period. Great songwriters seemed to exist by the truckload--Harlan Howard, Willie Nelson, Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, John D. Loudermilk, Hank Snow, etc., etc., etc.

It's easy to take this massive body of music for granted. Some of the songs--such as Don Gibson's "I Can't Stop Loving You" and "Sweet Dreams"--are such a part of the fabric of American music that they may be invisible to many people.

I consider Don Gibson to be one of the strongest, most passionate country songwriters of his day. That he was a superb performer--until he adopted iffy vocal affectations, circa 1964--is a decided plus.

Many of the pro songwriters in '50s/'60s Nashville were charming, if tentative, vocalists. No one is going to champion Harlan Howard as an outstanding performer. Gibson is up there with Willie Nelson and Hank Snow as a masterful writer/artist in the classic country idiom.

Gibson's songs demonstrate the arc of development in country music through two turbulent decades. The earliest recordings heard here are typical of the hard-edged, plaintive honky-tonk country that surfaced via the inestimable influence of Hank Williams. There are, as well, a handful of solid rockabilly-style numbers ("I Ain't A-Studyin' You, Baby," "Tell It Like It Is" and the country-punk of "Sittin' Here Cryin'").

Gibson's soulful voice was used as the vehicle for "The Nashville Sound"--an attempt to give pop and rock fans a reference point for a music that was scorned as corny and old-fashioned. Some regrettable things occurred in the building of the Nashville Sound--obnoxious, ultra-white backing choruses, incongruous instruments such as electric organs and, to some purists' eyes, full drum kits. The arrangements tended towards the saccharine/Caucasian, as heard in several recordings in this compilation. It is to Gibson's credit that, while he embraces this new sound, he also transcends it with the power of his wavering, pensive voice.

Gibson struggled with drug addiction and was infamous for erratic behavior. These excesses took a toll on his abilities as performer and songwriter. His delivery becomes curiously clipped and curt in his post-1963 recordings. Compared to the moving performances of the late 1950s and early '60s, this new approach falls flat. If Gibson saw this as an improvement in his art, one can only disagree. He could still perform a song--his or others', the latter which he leaned on heavily after 1963--with beauty and soul, but the flowing sustained notes of his best early recordings are achingly absent.

When able to write, Gibson still proved a first-class country and pop writer. Late songs on this collection, such as "Around the Town," "Run Along Blues" and "Times Were Good" meet or surpass the quality of his late '50s/early '60s output. Indeed, the final song here, 1969's "There's a Story," shows the writer adapting to new changes in the sound of country music.

"Oh Lonesome Me," "I Can't Stop Loving You" and "Sweet Dreams" have proved Don Gibson's most enduring compositions. He recorded the latter several times before arriving at his definitive version, released as a 1962 single. Its flipside, "The Same Street," is a devastating, gloomy song about the traces of a ruined relationship that supremely haunt their singer. This was a Gibson lyrical specialty. Few of his songs have happy outcomes. In the song "Give Myself a Party," Gibson takes this melancholy and turns it inside-out. The results are unusual and gripping. The song is a jaunty death-march to the idea that human love can successfully exist.

All songs are derived from the three box sets of Gibson's 1949-1969 recordings issued by, er, "Ursine Clan" Records in the 1990s. All three sets are worth acquiring, in whatever form available, for their alternate takes, tremendous cover versions and a few minor gems that didn't make the cut of this personal Top Fifty.

These 50 songs come in two files of 25, HERE and HeRe. No password required.

P. F. Sloan--A Passel of Passionate 1960s Demo Recordings--re-upped August 2019!

SEE COMMENTS FOR WORKING LINKS. You may need to get a free account with Box.com in order to access the tracks. It won't hurt one bit, I promise!

_________________________________________

I summed up the musical career of the late, lamented Phil Sloan in the liner notes for the Ace Records compilation You Baby: Words and Music by P. F. Sloan and Steve Barri, which was released in 2010. Buy it, why don'cha? I put a lot of work into this project, including in-depth interviews with Sloan and Barri. I made 400 bucks for my trouble. I am, apparently, persona non grata at Ace Records, for reasons I shall never know.

Still, I am proud of this project, even though some of its song choices are weak, and some key tracks are missing--mostly due to unreasonably high licensing fees.

Destined to be one of the most controversial and maligned figures in that potent decade of pop music progress, Sloan's 1960s Los Angeles career was short but sweet. The years 1964 to 1967 saw a large quantity of original songs, written in a dizzying array of styles, most often with his collaborator, Steve Barri, composed, demoed and sometimes recorded by other artists.

"Eve of Destruction" changed Sloan's life and career. A prior composer of pop, girl group, surf, rock and novelty songs, Sloan was suddenly seen as a serious composer--the first "new Bob Dylan" in pop-rock history.

Like almost all others who had that mantle put upon them, it was more burden than honor. While Sloan continued to write dynamite mainstream pop music material, he also strove to create more complex, advanced songs that uneasily straddled the boundaries of pop and folk musics.

Some of these songs are failures--over-wrought, over-written and awkwardly conceived. But the majority are bracing, exciting and sometimes deeply moving compositions that showed the pop music world that there was more than met the eye to what a commercial piece of music could contain.

Sloan was out of Los Angeles by the end of 1967, and his songs were largely forgotten. Meanwhile, countless other singer-songwriters trod the path he had unconsciously blazed, and his influence--as the first composer to meet the disparate ends of Dylanesque personal songwriting and mainstream commerical material--still hangs over the American musical landscape.

Sloan's solo recordings of this period rarely do him justice. Perhaps at the encouragement of record-label execs, Sloan affects a Dylanish whine to his vocals, and most of the recordings are badly balanced, overly sparse, and betray the lack of TLC afforded them. His two period albums, Songs of Our Times and Twelve More Times, have their moments, but fail to satisfyingly cohere.

Sloan's secret recording career, as the passionate performer of scores of demonstration recordings, was unheard outside the music industry at the time. Sung beautifully in his rich, distinctive voice, and often more elaborately orchestrated than his solo albums, these demos show Sloan at his early best.

A CD of some highlights of these demo recordings was commercially issued in 2001. That disc, Child of Our Times, is the first act of today's post. Though its graphics are shoddy, the mastering of the 20 songs therein is superb. You can nab a 320 rip of that out-of-print seedee at the top of this post.

The disc represented just the tip of the iceberg. I've assembled a bonus volume, containing 25 more demo performances (see comment section below for 2021 links).

These 25 songs more accurately show the schizophrenic aspects of Sloan's commercial songwriting. Everything from a cutesy boy-girl duet, and several songs for an apparently abandoned 1964 album project devoted to the "swim" dance craze, to devastatingly good pop songs such as "He's Just That Kind of Guy," "And I Cry Over You" and "Things Are Different Now" and more Dylanesque pieces ("Me And My Captain," "It's No Disgrace") are on deck. There's even a country-pop song, "I Love You More Than Yesterday," that seems to have been written on spec, but never used.

That was the sad fate of so many of these songs: disuse and indifference. 50 years later, we can hear these and marvel at how good they are, even the sillier of them. But back then, when they were part of the commerical currency of the music scene, they were ignored. The music biz is a ruthless profession, and it's chewed up and spit out some very talented individuals.

Since I first posted these collections in 2014, P.F. Sloan has left this mortal coil. He passed away from complications with pancreatic cancer in 2016.  He created a final studio album, My Beethoven, and a memoir called What Exactly's The Matter With Me? His memoir is often-heartbreaking. He doesn't shift the blame away from himself for the poor choices he made in his youth, and confirms that he really wanted to make popular music better in his own way. Had he worn the Dylan influences more fluently, as in these demo recordings, I believe his vision of "people's music" would have caught on.

Sloan's book is a must-read, and his best songs will live on as younger listeners and musicians stumble across them in years to come. In the meantime, peruse these 45 demo recordings from the mid-1960s, and enjoy one of the era's most passionate voices.

The Complete James Ray: 27 Tracks; If You Gotta Make A Fool of Somebody (in Itty Bitty Pieces), then Put Me in Your Diary--and Welcome to the Floor. While you're at it, Do the Monkey! (finalized 6/18)

Seeing that the various Otis Blackwell and "5" Royales posts, here, have proved popular, here's some more R&B, albeit of a more eccentric species.

Contained HEREIN (Box.com download) are 21 tracks that I once thought comprised the recorded output of James Ray, elfin soul singer, between 1962 and 1964. He died in '64, as this skeletal Wikipedia article relates. After this post first went live in December 2013, some kind folks stepped forward and let me know that I was shy several tracks. Just imagine! It took a few years to track these tracks down in good sound quality, and as summer 2018 rears its ugly head, I have the pleasure of sealing the deal on James Ray.

HERE is a smaller mp3 file of all 27 songs (the top link is for FLAC versions--see below.) The formerly missing tracks: JR's version of the standard "(I'm Afraid) The Masquerade is Over," which shared a single with the far superior "One By One," escaped my notice 'til now. 

How could I forget the '63 dance floor filler "Do the Monkey," a songwriting collaboration of Bobby Darin and Rudy Clark? Well, I did. 

As well, I was unaware of his first single, from 1959, as "Little Jimmy Ray," which consists of the  moody minor-keyed "You Need to Fall in Love," coupled with the more traditionally soulful "Make Her Mine." These two tracks were released on the spell-check-maddening Galliant Records and are rare as all heck. 

And there's more... a 1962 single that couples the non-LP track "Always" (the Irving Berlin standard done up in gospel style, complete with an unusually tasteful and restrained choir) and George Harrison's fave, "Got My Mind Set on You." I believe that this is a wholly different take of the song from the album track. The banjos get a little more, shall we say, aggressive on this 45 version. 

I truly believe this represents everything James Ray recorded, barring unissued material that may have been destroyed or abandoned once the record label perished. The UK reissue label Charly Records issued a compilation LP, Itty Bitty Pieces, in 1983, which contains most of the singles, selected Caprice LP tracks, and three unissued pieces which are superb and more "normal" soul/R&B performances.

Ray had a great voice--smoky, expressive, and more than a little indebted to another Ray (Charles). His performances are commanding and unusual.

Producer Hutch Davies fashioned some zany arrangements to couch Ray's unique voice, abetted by several original tunes composed by cult soul figure Rudy Clark. There's something sinister-sounding about many of these recordings. Perhaps it was substandard studio technology. And the oddball arrangements of Hutch Davies contribute mightily to the strange effect. I give him credit for building an atypical soundscape for a rhythm and blues singer. The instrumentation and mood harks back to pre-rock pop, but with an indescribable edge. 

Some R&B/soul purists can't stand the weird backdrops on several tunes, but I love them, and think that their off-ness is an asset. From the tuba-harmonica duet on the waltz-time "If You Gotta Make A Fool of Somebody" to the cartoon-Dixieland of "St. James Infirmary," you never know what's gonna end up in the musical stewpot.

Ray did his share of good, solid straight-ahead soul numbers towards the end of his too-brief career. Tunes such as "One By One," "We Got a Thing Goin' On," "On That Day" and "I'm Not Guilty" are top-drawer R'n'B-soul. The sub-par sax solo on "Not Guilty" is yet another unexpected sonic delight in the Ray-ology. 

Ray's songs were much-covered by the rock bands that came exploding out of England in the early 1960s. "If You Gotta Make A Fool of Somebody" and "Itty Bitty Pieces" have many renditions in the UK British Beat catalog. (The Rockin' Berries' rendition of the latter song is among the most cringe-inducing, unbearable discs of the British beat era, BTW.) Maxine Brown, US soul-stress, did a nice version of "Fool" in 1967.

Nothing much is known about Ray, but the oft-weird intensity of the recordings speak for themselves. I love his languid, Charles-inspired take on Hoagy Carmichael's "Lazy Bones," and the Rudy Clark-penned modern morality tale "The Old Man and The Mule." Those two tracks show Ray at his vocal peak.

This first download link leads to a large file... I opted to save the 21 original songs as FLAC files. Please don't give me any flack about this. If you're using iTunes, just convert the files to AACs or MP3s, and you'll get a smaller (but probably lossy) version handy for your iPod, smart phone, or dumb camel.

Five years later, I think I've finally closed the book on James Ray. His voice, songs and the weirdness of his discography still fascinates me. I hope it do you, too.

PS: To make the best sense of these recordings, here's...

A JAMES RAY DISCOGRAPHY

1959:

(as Little Jimmy Ray)

You Need to Fall in Love/Make Her Mine (Galliant 1001, 9/59)

1961:

If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody/It's Been a Drag (Caprice 110, 10/61)

1962:

Itty Bitty Pieces/You Remember the Face (Caprice 114, 3/62)

A Miracle/Things Are Gonna Be Different (Caprice 117, 6/62)

Always/I've Got My Mind Set on You* (Dynamic Sound 503, 12/62)

1963:

Marie/The Old Man and the Mule (Congress 109, 2/63)

Do the Monkey/Put Me in Your Diary (Congress CG-201, 9/63)

(I'm Afraid) The Masquerade is Over/One By One (Congress CG-203, 11/63)

1964:

We Got a Thing Goin' On/On That Day (Congress CG 218, 7/64)

Extended Play 45:

The Old Man and the Mule/Lazy Bones/Come Rain or Come Shine/St. James Infirmary

(Caprice EP 1002, 7/62; promotional tool to exploit the full length LP)

12" LP Album:

James Ray (Caprice LP 1002, 7/62)

The Old Man and the Mule; Lazy Bones; I've Got My Mind Set on You, Pts. 1 & 2; St. James' Infirmary; Come Rain or Come Shine; If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody

Without a Song; Teach Me Tonight; A Miracle; It's Been a Drag; Welcome to the Floor; Itty Bitty Pieces

(tracks in italics were previously issued on 45)

Itty Bitty Pieces (Charly R&B CRB 1065, 1983)

contains the unissued tracks:

(I'm Not) Guilty; One By One; I'm Gonna Keep on Trying plus various singles and LP tracks from 1961-1964

* this is a different and shorter take than the one found on the Caprice LP; apparently there was a plan to issue "Got My Mind Set On You" as a two-sided disc that was shelved